Passages in the Aftermath
(Sun Series #11)
In this part of the valley, the winding creek undercuts hills unnoticed from the mile roads. Thank the deer for any trails. Old fences stand, rusty hindrances to our passage, the only bridges, downed logs and thin ice. As we scout for birds this morning, the soft earth still smells of autumn with late-fallen leaves. My partner spots a coyote, heading upstream as we work down, and then another. They cross the creek silently over to my side; without a trace, they’re gone. Calling birds quiet. A barred owl takes flight.