Too bad about the dang telephone pole. I like this angle, though, with the pheasant's eye narcissus smelling so sweet, the golden forsythia growing wild in back.
On this day it was so warm I caught myself in an accidental upside-down selfie without my shirt. Sports bra's good enough for a 70-degree day and deserted dirt roads. My favorite kind.
Everywhere, American shad lights up the forest with its white candles. Where's Waldo? The tiny black dot on up ahead.
And a minuscule red eft crosses a gravel road. The smallest I've ever found. This photo is about life size.
I carried him the way he was headed, to a damp ditch. The Deus ex Machina he'll tell his little larval kids about, the hand that reached down from the sky to sweep him to safety.
Who knows how far he's already come, and how far he'll travel this year?
He's looking for something. Someplace different than where he's been. I don't know how I see them, but I seem to run into them all the time. Maybe because we're both on a quest.