November 16/365 Hark!

We rented an apartment that had once been mill housing during WWII. Midland Heights was built high above the town, a convenience when the smoke from the blast furnaces would have blanketed the valley. Our unit was on the end, so in the fall we could see the ribbon of the Ohio below us. On still nights when fog draped the river, the mournful horns of blind tugboats sounded, reminding me somehow of angels and danger.


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