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I seem to be walking simultaneously in two worlds, one past, one present. The place I know today is not the place I knew then, yet somehow it is, replaced by something else but not replaced completely.

I find these black raspberries ripening on the edge of the garden just like they did 40 years ago, almost like they had been waiting for me to come back and take them. A sure sign the Summer Solstice is soon upon us, another season slips by, another page is turned.

Coming home, for me, was the inevitable closing of a circle.

Black Raspberries (©2012 by Richard X. Moore)

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