The crickets are loud tonight and the vet told us that the dog we meant to foster for only one week eight years ago probably won’t live much longer. The moon is so full, blue moon full, and I am grateful for the extra light, for the crickets, for the chance to give a tiny street dog a second chance at a good life. The season is turning. Brown maple leaves scatter the yard. Fall is my favorite. It breaks my heart. None of this is permanent-- that's why it's all so exquisite.
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