And where I come from, that is love.
Tonight the Saints play the Falcons,
a pot of venison chili bubbles
separates, almost ready. Deer meat chili
I would have called it before I left
home. So much to fear so much
goodness in this world of ours. And what
do you do, except huddle up
close, eat something warm, cry
over that beyond your control
take joy in what can not matter?
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