This Moment: 7:59 P.M. April 2,2012

I am on the lane eating sushi watching the clouds pink as the sun departs. A constitutional scholar is discussing linguistics, the word choices of the chief justice and his court. I cannot keep myself from my small joke of Roberts and the Supremes. Language matters. It is through our words we reveal our most secret selves. Historian Fawn Brody knew this and pointed to Jefferson's increasing use of "mulatto" to describe the fields around Monticello after he began his affair with his slave and mother of his children, Sally Hemming. The justices will reveal themselves further as the argument deepens. Birds smaller than my thumb flit past on a rollercoaster current. The horizon has turned yellow, lined with gray. The green branches are turning a purplish black in the darkness. From where I sit, I see small rectangles of light appear as lights switch on all over the neighborhood. A dog barks to the west, then whimpers what sounds like frustration. The newly plowed field smells of cocoa and must. Birdsong fills the crisp night air. It is time to go inside.

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