We cut down a branch on a tree in the backyard this week. What made the decision difficult was the blue fiber remains of a baby swing we once had hanging off the branch. Three kids. Three babies. I was saddened to see the cut branch and ran my finger over the rope. The branch had grown around the swing connectors (the swing itself, we had cut down years ago). The movement of time -- the elliptical nature of memory -- the counting of years by trees. It's all there for me in this

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The last
annular ring
of memory.
Hugging.
Loving.
By threes,
One at a time.

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@dogtrax Yes, I do know it as I get ready for another bittersweet trek to the Nashville Airport to drop off my youngest one to fly home. I will keep you in mind the next time my Phoebe visits as we put up a new swing for her niece, my grandaughter Caroline.

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