Ten a.m., three quarters through February, I’m driving along 7th Line to town, tall trees and deep snow on either side, a house or two glimpsed through branches: suddenly, ahead, as the road slopes up, from the trees on the right bounds a black animal, leaping across the road from one side of the woods to the other.
in the hammock
in the shade
in the clearing
in the woods
with me
a small mosquito, two birds nearby
a shushing wind
the bleats of sheep
car on the road
woodpecker knocking:
rooster crows
30 feet above my head
four maples meet and swing their greens
in a blue sky the sun shines through,
a dappled pattern on my knees
the buzz of bees
the smell of hay
in the hammock
in the shade
the fabric of the world
envelops us
in the clearing
in the woods
~~~
