As I scuff through the fallen leaves these days, I find my thoughts turning constantly to The Thicket, my former home in southern Indiana. Autumn will be arriving there, too, and I wonder what it must be like there now. Indian summer must bring dreams to the old place of all the years that have gone, and of the seasons past now. I wonder if it will ever be spring there again?
Manuscripts: Vol. 11
, Article 12.
Available at: http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol11/iss2/12