What I Did Not Write

There is a version of this letter in the grate. It said too much and I am not yet brave in that particular way. It spoke of the evening light on the orchard wall and how I had wished, plainly, for someone to remark on it with. The version I am sending you instead asks after your health and the harvest. Please understand that the harvest is not what I mean. I have never in my life cared about a harvest.