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Photo Prayer / August 2020

The spring equinox has passed, but the hesitant roots of the ferns have yet to send forth fresh shoots. The old fronds still stand, stiff, not soft, brown, not green. They are, in their wintry way, beautiful, even lyrical. I, too, am in my winter years. What is left of my hair is snowy white, and there are other signs, too many! Half the men my age will be dead in 13 years. How is it then that I feel that my life has just begun? That my many decades are only preface, only a prologue? The feeling is strong but how can it be true unless death is not the end? Photo of dried fern fronds.

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Photo and text copyright 2020 by Danny N. Schweers.

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