The sun forgets nothing. Every
day the sun rises and remembers to brush its bright fingers against everything—against
each tilted blade of grass. Each canopy
of trees. All the overthrust mountains. A child’s bare arm. A fallen fence post. The mist rising from twisting rivers
But the man forgets to touch the fallen fencepost. The mist.
The mountains.
The man forgets to stay young.
And, one day, the man forgets to rise.
—Mitchell Hegman
Life does tend to run one down, especially as age creeps in.
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