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| More fern than tree — |
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| Talisman on the path — |
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| Decaying chunk wreathed in bright fallen branches — |
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| Mossy notch high in a maple — |
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And then perhaps less than holy, on my front porch, the ruined remains of a dead pumpkin ravaged by squirrels in search of the cache of seeds within. Less holy, yes, but no less fascinating in the cycle of life. Instead of having to look deeper for evidence of life now that we're entrenched in winter here, my post-holiday sloth has allowed a colorful front porch view in pithy glowing oranges, all the slippery slumping slime of it on display. (The neighbors already know I'm nuts.) |
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| I can't help but think of pie. |
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