We sat and watched as the day came to its close; as the
outwaters, recently filled with such early winter's rain, flourished with
winged foul and not-yet-asleep turtles. As the Coyote stirred, knowing the
migration toward houses and cars and compost bins was close, no matter the mild
easy weather and the plentiful food. The bears, I imagine, like the chipmunk,
may be full of disagreement amongst themselves, as to whether it is time to
crawl deep and sleep, or continue on, in the light warmth. But no matter,
whether it be human contaminant or the cycles of the earth itself, all will
continue. All will grow and then slumber, as each of us, in this place, is
called to our own winter's rest.
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