The morning dew had never entered my mind until I sat on the park bench. Then the reality of it began to soak in.
They left no post in my box today, no letter from you, no package from up North. Am I to wait another full day to hear any news? Yesterday’s correspondence still sits beneath the table lamp, unopened. Your seal upon the flap suggests waiting to open it will be difficult, but per your instructions, it remains untouched until Friday.
The gold dollar fell from my pocket, but having landed upon the carpet it made no sound and went unnoticed by me and others. Its presence, however, was announced quite loudly when it entered the janitor’s vacuum.
The time that lapsed between
one event and the other, reminded me of the slow entrance made by the morning
dew.
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