Weaving in and out of the streetlight’s glow, shapes of trees appear then sink back into darkness. The years of their standing written in rings.
The creek lies deep in its bed casting points of light skyward. Motionless, the coyote watches my slow advance, then turns and drifts away, blending into shadows. I follow, walking past an ancient hickory, its trunk hollowed. I wonder at its strength to remain standing, bark thick and ridged. My time in this place isContinue reading “nesting”