through the fences

by underswansea


Travelling the same road doesn’t mean you will see the same things. Saw a young coyote running, lost. It is probably dead by now. A couple of turkey vultures staked out a dead deer. The mule deer seem presentable. And there is a turkey near the fenceline. The flowers are more my speed. They have turned white from purple. When things speed up even colour gets forgotten.  My brother is away getting straighten out. Everybody has given up hope. Everybody hopes for the best, which is like saying they don’t give a shit. Nobody is putting up bets in his favour. He is a dark horse, for sure.