Atavism
Something is being told in the woods: aisles ofshadow lead away; a branch waves;a pencil of sunlight slowly travels itspath. A withheld presence almostspeaks, but then retreats, rustlesa patch of brush. You can feelthe centuries ripple generationsof wandering, discovering, being lostand found, eating, dying, being born.A walk through the forest strokes your fur,the fur you no longer have. And your gazedown a forest aisle is a strange, longplunge, dark eyes looking for home.For delicious minutes you can feel your whiskerswider than your mind, away out over everything.
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✎William Edgar Stafford (Hutchinson, Kansas, 17 January 1914 – Lake Oswego, Oregon, 28 August 1993).
◙ Artwork: Iván Ivánovich Shishkin.