Monday, October 25, 2021

So many tracks through these woods, used by so many creatures. The one I walk, I do little more than borrow it. I am here, then gone from this earth.

What will be left after I am dust? Not even my footprints.

My trace will be seen in the memories and stories of the descendents of those I have greeted as I walk these woods.

So let me smile at this fellow who now approaches.

(Letter #2,480)