SOMETHING to REMEMBER the FOREST BY
The dog and I had come to the end of the wooded trail, just before the parking lot started, and that’s where someone had set up a souvenir shop. It wasn’t much more than a bus stop. A table was piled with autumn leaves, branches, pine cones, stones from the creek. I picked up a soft owl feather and set it down. I listened to the field recording of wind in the trees.