While underneath in the night
Crickets are singing
Basho (1644-1694)
Actually, I don't pluck out the gray hairs. I've earned them, dammit, and they stay where they are. The only thing I don't really like about them is they lack the fullness and manageability that my hair used to have. Oh well.
Sure, last summer, as I was approaching 40, I was a little concerned about these signs of age. But once I made it past that milestone I realized how meaningless it was. I don't think that I currently have any aging issues.
I can listen to the crickets, and let them lull me to sleep, without them symbolizing the passage of time. I've got nothing against the crickets; I'm singing too.
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