Decatur Correction Facility
Dearest T-bones (often what she calls me),
(at the top of the letter beautiful drawing of a horse)
In my mind, I am sitting invisible behind you as you ride West. It's an image I can't shake. You are on Cooskie Mt. over on the North Side of the River near the Ocean. I'm the small bird perched on the brim of your hat, and I can see the trees, blooming - earlier than the Illinois Oaks around Decatur. The river is moving jade and emerald, and the sky over the Pacific looms changeable every moment. One second, the fog is licking its great white tongue over Uncle Tommy's,the next,fat cumulus are soaring above the mouth - 40,000 feet of excellence in white drapery and glorious triumphs of updrafts. Hawks and Raven hold the currents with their expert balance, and the cows gaze back at you - Bovine Buddhists, their mouths moving slowly, chanting together in a smooth,calming mastication. Maybe they are super-conscious! Maybe they know everything of value,everything that's important. Maybe those sloe-eyed beauties and their stodgy males have the most fun of any sentient creature on the planet. How do you know what they're thinking T-bones? You don't know! Hah!