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 […]