Memoir
A hare’s breath or a hair’s breadth?
I’ve come that close to the edge so many times.
I choose the sweet hare’s breath then use her whiskers to measure how nearly I’ve come to missing my appointment with destiny.
In old age, I decide I’ve made it to the end and the right place by a nose.
(Upon mishearing Edna O’Brien this morning on the Diane Rehm Show.)
