A confluence of lovely occasions might release us from our hourly mugging in the American tribulation, and so hundreds of vultures in a kettle the size of which I have never seen, circling over us north to south on this white cloud afternoon, was a wonder and a joy. Then Johnny Cash came on the radio singing Ghost Riders in the Sky and a momentary amnesty was delivered to us, and it felt good just to watch their spiraling and to think of young Johnny, pompadour up, that voice bearing all the soul we needed for this time and place.
