Without the somber cleaning of the fireplace and carrying the unused wood back to its lonely resting place, there would be no return of the purple martins

Without fear, there would be no courage.

Without an ugly woman, there would be no beautiful one.

Without rain, there would be no rainbow.

Without 88-year-old Sparky Jenkins, there would be no 3-year-old Kadence Carter.

Without blackness, there would be no reds or oranges or yellows or blues.

Without green peas, there would be no black bottom pie.

Without chicken manure, there would be no Windsong.

Without dreary days, there would be no gorgeous ones.

Without paralysis, there would be no movement.

Without labor, there would be no birth.

Without hanging up the Carhartt, there would be no slipping on the flip-flops.

Without Lambsquarter, there would be no clean peanut field.

Without shivering in the cold, there would be no basking in the warmth.

Without lonely beds, there would be no snuggling up to her.

Without death, there would be no life.