Leavings

I search for chanterelles and find the rusty remnant of a spring steel, hayrake tine root-embedded at the field edge. I retrace leavings: a whisper in the grass. . . the thrown mane and wide eye turned in terror. . . hoof-scattered hay and bouncing tines. . . The moment vibrating yet in a corner of the back meadow.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
QR Code to Leavings
Read this article in
https://www.csmonitor.com/1981/0928/092809.html
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today
https://www.csmonitor.com/subscribe