The Haircut I felt especially honoured when allowed, this once, to take a pair of scissors and, ever so timidly, gingerly, trim a few silver curls from your beloved head. I snipped a few tufts to even up the back then stopped, afraid to go beyond the bounds of what was necessary. Zeal was inappropriate. When I bent to sweep them up, the few fallen tendrils, and throw them into the dustbin, I thought to myself, perhaps I should have kept some, saved them for later. Moonset 6 a.m. This morning on the…
Subscribe to get access to all online articles
Already a member?
Sign in to read this article