April -- Ninth

             All letters are a form of seduction.   Suspend your love for me.   Make believe the profound love you feel for me does not exist.   Fall in love with me anew.

            Today as I entered the woods by the ponds, I noticed the many blooms of mushrooms on and around my path.   The recent days of downpours (April showers bring May flowers.) have, obviously, been good for the fungi.   I remember following my Grandmother as she picked mushrooms and explained each type to me as we went.   This is a memory from at least forty years ago, yet it is vivid, I can feel her presence just in front of me as I look at these mushrooms.   “Not that one.   It is bitter.   This one is good.   Leave that one for the rabbits.”

            I want to write a letter, maybe two, one for Marianne, one for Barbara.   But I’m paralyzed by my own being.   I want a response, a positive response, instead I’m confronted with anger and manipulation.

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