Carwin Biloquist

If a tracker stumbled onto my spoor, he might deduce from the matrix of dirt soiling my otherwise pug-free and tidy door saddle that I was not home and probably lost. When the coon-skinned tail on his capsized head struck plum with the earth below--the permanent address where all return home--a transcribe worth his weight in lead would note -- that a canis lantrans, or coyote, marked my trail.Even a soy-fed metropolitan, never once having vacationed in the wild, would recognize a constipated two-step on the real estate of his newly paved cement, even if only able to classify with any certainty the stamp of his own species. For the footprint was the first entry ever read in the digest of an animal, and the first character ever written in that groundbreaking passage was probably cast by the author's own pad. Just ask any churinga'd cognoscente of the Kalahari countryside what noble faculty makes him such an adept tracker, and he will tell you hunger.This lot was never mine to cast, and long before I caught his Aeolian scent in the loose weave of the susurrous canopy, Coyote wind has driven my direction.
Copyright 2006. aka Carwin Biloquist. All Rights Reserved.