Our willow tree - what remains of it - has dropped a mighty branch into our back yard. It made a great, ripping sound and then returned to s

On the last night, my son stood watch over the good dog Beamer who was in undisclosed pain and couldn’t bear to be alone. I couldn’t sleep either, so I lay in bed and listened to Peter labor with our old darling - who wanted out. Eighty pounds limp in his arms, Pete went down the stairs and out to the yard. Then Beamer wanted in and so he was carried: up and down, up and down. It was mostly rustling sounds. I thought about the word itself: rustle. How it feels weathered and