THIS OUGHT TO
Along this landscape nothing
much changes : wilds and crazies
maybe come out of hiding. But I
have nowhere to go.
-
Ancient rocks piled high to Heaven
somehow shear their ridges and
come tumbling down. Rubble.
Cinders of stone. Dirtbags of
wasted matter?
-
I saw a critter today : fox or coyote
or badger or something. Skittering
atop the hardened snow; even it
looked depressed in its outing,
leaving a mound of scat at the
door to my garage.
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