I look at my dogs and wonder why they

like chasing the ball. Rabbits and squirrels

I get; the ball must have a magic all its own.

20 years after Annie Barker’s dress lifted

above her waist as she ran for a touchdown

I married her – still I marvel at the daisies and

freckles beneath her dress. Is glimmer one of

those words that makes you think of stars,

or ice in moonlight? If I have a glimmer of

hope would it shine like stars out over the

ocean, or would it mean the moon might

be made of green cheese? When that first

girl pulled the heart from my chest and

handed it to me like a shell, I put it to my

ear and heard the sound of my impending

doom. I survived, though I will never

forget the silence in that shell. I still hold

it to my ear now and then, searching

for a glimmer of hope, something magic

for me to chase.

 

 

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