Gateway to the Empyrean: Cirrocumulus 83

The summer started and I was back at it in my archery lessons.

There were some bows that stuck to a couple of rungs below the bulls eye.

I focused my next arrow on where it should go: dead center.

I took a deep breath and pulled the bow.


I closed my eyes once that feathery projectile left the bow and darted through the brisk New England air.

I heard it get lodged on the target.

Then my eyes began to open.


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