Which of us spoke the first word
and where, over a glass of chablis
at a sidewalk café or, August windows
rolled all the way down as we passed
something malodorous -- roadkill
rabbit ministered by vultures? -- details
don't matter. We might have been
discussing odd habits of the new neighbors,
or solar flares, or peregrine falcons
in Manhattan. Somehow the first
word slipped in. And, you know how
the first word leads always
to the last. |
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Taylor Graham writes: "I'm a volunteer search-and-rescue dog handler
in the Sierra Nevada, and also help my husband (a retired wildlife
biologist) with his field projects." Ms. Graham is also author of
a prize-winning collection of poetry, The Downstairs Dance Floor.
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