What May Exist Question Mark
High winds may exist. It was a warning. But an avuncular one, so he took it lightly and was swept up into the top boughs of a pine tree, where in between gusts he was quite comfortable and happy about the view and enjoyed a general sense of smugness, like that one gets from being above it all. But then he would look out over the wildly waving uncut hay fields to the north, which gave him notice of incoming gale force and he would increase his grip. His fingernails were dug so deep into the pine bark that sap poured from it and soon coated his palms which turned black and sticky and coated with bits of wood and moss. It was good the stickiness during the windy moments for it aided his ability to hold on but once during a calm moment he forgot about it and while picking at a piece of bark bit blown into his eye he succeeded only in spreading sap along the lid and soon found that eye glued shut. So with only one eye the view was not as good. Plus, it was his bad eye with which he now viewed the world. His good eye had grown up going to church and listening to his mother and eating vegetables and such, and the bad eye had not. Still, he had some vision, if slightly jaundiced, and, there was nothing wrong with his legs, yet, so he climbed down from the tree, slicing rude cuts into his face and body from the broken pointed shards of limb he encountered on his descent. He had a limp now, caused he guessed from some poke in his get-a-long. And one puckering crusty eye and one formerly bad eye now elevated to good. This new good eye accepted light but gave none back. And like this he set out.
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