Clod dug up at trail's edge-- mud-colored, clawed and pitted, gator-tailed-- sinks small head and little eye in many folded neck, viper sharp and and able to wait forever.
It's a joy I can't admit-- this marveling to find myself in season following season. Seems melodramatic, this inner grin, this quizzical shake of the head. "What are you so happy about?" grumbles a colleague as we whisk our way to the 12th floor. Oh, nothing , I can hardly reply, just surprised to be alive.
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