Transmissions from the desert

Wrap my arms around you and lift you to the top of the tree. This is not a home, it's a shelter and not much of one. I dread the sight of Spazier, for its name calls for you to leave me again. We creep past the scene and I can't help but think, "You never know, that could've been me"...but the moment passes like the steam off your breath, like the thoughts of turning back.

Every day I drive past the meadow expecting to see evidence of the wild. On the icy mornings, as the fog sits low, a family of deer stands proud. On the warm afternoons, a bear meanders across the grass. When I blink, though, my eyes remind me that there's never been anything there.

Never wait for the last. Enjoy each, savor every. Less likely to pause, more likely to share.

And as he flies past, you catch his head turn: a quick glance at what he's left and the millions of lost possibilities. I think I can see the monster looming in the darkness with its fingers of ice. The woodsman will keep me safe and alive.

And, like a plane into the clouds, I fade away.