Field Notes

Field Notes
Caught in mountain’s shadow redcrested, splashed-white bird drifts through pines. A red fox strides out of nowhere to cross my path; burnished fur aglow in January gray. As simple as each image is, I can’t describe them or bring them to you. Wings of the mute swans whistle above me as they soar down to the wind-scared surface of slate-blue lake. How heavy is each creature? How swift to flee? How lost? How much at home? I stare as they swirl by the stillness I’ve chosen. None stare back but some will return to study my footprints long after I walk from these leafless branches back to trackless asphalt.

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