He pointed to a white wolf. The bear
was caramel. Up there, four months
is your life. We weren't supposed to talk
but we did and I asked about everything
that I had encountered. The point wasn't
there anymore. Wasn't taken. Not
as I remembered it. All worry
and bumpy. The divide
in the distance. Plus, my mind
was focusing on the willows, still,
and not those short flowers and their path--
purely imaginary until they made it
to camp all these years working.
Slaves in the summer
winters quite royal.
More about the berries, the people,
the animals, and the town
to be continued.
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