weeds and scree, Dec 2013

the land had no trail yet many intuitive ways of passage. it was terraced by the pounding beat of cattle and elk then smoothed by padding cougar and coyote. hinges of juniper's dry bodies gripped the edge of the dirt. two hawks guarded their dead from the sky, dropping mottled red feathers and shrill communications to the ground. this was my first time bushwhacking sagebrush and tumbleweed: gingerly pick up obstacle then throw away from the line of travel. trouble is, the spiny cages catch the wind, covering the way again as if I'd not touched them--some sort of ephemeral power.


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