In the vernal pool on top of the mountain, the trees shiver even when there’s no wind.
Wood frogs have anchored their egg masses to a pair of sunken twigs.
Long shadows inched over the leaves & the moss while the blue-headed vireo recited his song from memory.
A mourning cloak butterfly passed me on the ridgetop trail, & I turned & watched it until it was out of sight.
A wild turkey burst from cover, got tangled in a black birch sapling, & fell back to earth.
Some disturbance of the universe would be unavoidable even if I never left the house.
Hours later I remember to check myself for ticks.
Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).