Return to the world
Return to the world. I can't see the labyrinth right now--blanketed in snow. In the autumn, Avery planted dozens of bulbs and I know there are flowers curved into their seeds, under the frozen earth right now, biding their time. I saw the muddy stretch she created when she planted rows of tulips pointed out to the labyrinth. Neighbors report sighting bobcats on the neighborhood app where we talk about lost dogs, the destruction of signs and mailboxes, the abridged hours of the coffee shops desperate for help. Coyotes are mating in the woods at the edge of our backyard and our golden doodle is mad for a chance to what? He barks and barks into the dark, bemoaning his electronic collar, wishing to fight them? join their strange cries in the night? What would my giraffe of a dog--all limbs akimbo and full heart and scant brainpower--do out in the wild woods with the real animals? Sebby is a Velveteen rabbit of a dog--almost a child's version of a dog, all softness and late ni