How can you not stand in the presence of the watchful eye of a Golden Eagle and not be changed by it? How can you feel the reverberations of sand hill cranes breaking the chill and darkness of a clinging winter and not bask in its wonderment? How can you witness permutations of perfection that are of other orders and assume for yourself the right to lay upon it your ruin?
Loren M. Lambert © April 12, 2013
Loren M. Lambert © April 12, 2013
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