Ken Macrorie wrote, "people who daily expect to encounter fabulous realities run smack into them again and again."
Witness:
A hawk passes silently only a few feet overhead, lands in a tree, screams, then flies, circling, till it joins another and disappears
at almost the same moment the Goodyear Blimp appears beyond the beach hill at Lake Cheston
where I spend another long while admiring psychedelically colored, remarkably friendly Autumn Meadowhawks,
even spotting a mature female for the first time,
when a young man arrives, having left his mother at the dentist, and tells me tales of deep water and really big fish in the old days at Lake Cheston,
site of fabulous realities.
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