Friday, April 08, 2011

Thousand: Three Hundred Thirty-One

a person. At a place where three limbs grow close together debris of leaves and twigs and evergreen needles have gathered to make a cushy mat. Butternut steps across it cautiously; it holds her weight. She’s been circling this tree for some time, she realizes. She pokes her nose over the far side of the mat and for the first time really looks down. Down has a lot to it. There are treetops below and they are looking rather more like kale or broccoli than like trees. Which is to say, if you were to take a gliding way to

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