Desire Lines

Jive-ass little epiphanies.  Nystagmic dawn-fire. Scamper and frolic of the forest in spring; pale sunrise settles in a mud-rimmed dish of rain, pale christly spatter of wild dogwood, cruciform, mid-April.   At my footfall, two doe canter creekward, slanting down and cross-hill, unhurrying.  You got to treat people like they treat themselves, got to bring […]