From tonight's Awakin Oakland reading by Christian McEwen ... In his memoirs, Pablo Neruda tells a story from his very early childhood. He was outside playing, exploring the back garden, when he came upon a hole in the wooden fence. As he watched, a child’s hand appeared, and almost immediately vanished, leaving behind a magnificent toy sheep. The sheep’s wool was torn and faded, and its wheels were missing. But for Neruda, it was a miracle. He ran home and returned with one of his own treasures, a ripe pinecone, smelling deliciously of resin, and set it down in the place of the sheep. He never saw the other child again. But that small, mysterious exchange remained with him for the rest of his life, "deep and indestructible, giving [his] poetry light."