Walking the companion animals yesterday evening an Albert Pinkham Ryder moon rose above our house’s chimneys as the gauzy soused fog of summer southeastern Pennsylvania descended.
Monstrous and kinetic, it engulfed us and everything around us like a supernatural paternoster.
I had felt untroubled but presently stood corrected, dead-centered in Jekyll & Hyde-ville.
As the day's breaths and speeches passed entirely into memory, I knew I was in the corn maze, two months too early.
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