left me begging to the birds for a bone or offering, left me saying nothing, nothing like I always say

I remembered today that sometimes great solace is to be entirely by myself for a little while, especially up on the top of some hill in the Shenandoah, watching the sycamore turn white in the dusky cold and all the little farm lights come on across the Valley.

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On the other hand, then I came home to this: