May 2010
1 post
In the rushes, gildy-green, i find a nest: toppled, looted, broke, and follow bent reeds and dry-throated riverbed until i see fine wolfish creature, white needle-toothed and shy. i hold out my hand, steady, open, soft. And patient, too. Sun sinks and rises again the day grows blood blood red then gold then blessed blue before he comes to caress my salt-licked hand with sweet and snuffling tongue....