First Sentence

"When you hear about his death it may be the climax of autumn, and you pruning dead branches from a flaming oak, the air golden and pungent with fresh wood, homey as bread baking; or it may be August, and you lying on the grass on a star-filled night, when the telephone summons you from the whorl of planets; or it may be you have just reached your door, soaked by springtime's storm, with lightning thick as your arm striking around you, when the letter arrives."