NATURE CALLING

Civilization will not allow for instinct: no dinners of raw mice, no clawing the eyes of enemies, no mating or defecating in the public streets.

Often, the dog scenting dog, coyote, fox –something pungent, instructive, on a tuft of grass– will turn against my call, ponder, consider, squat to make her mark.

One morning, as I walked between red cedars, young pines, stooped to move between low branches, to follow a mossy path worn deep by wild feet, I felt an insistent urge to pee.

So there it was: a seizure by immediate beauty –light filtered through dark pines– compelling me to say in the simplest way I could, my animal way,

I was here. This place is mine.