Light snow tinkers down. Nearly vaporous white souls, they mix with the steams pouring from my coffee cup into marvelous evaporation. I’ve a belly full of blueberry sourdough pancakes, peppered bacon, cantaloupe and fresh squeezed orange juice. Black coffee is handheld. I sit bundled on the deck to watch two bull moose clash mildly. They roam out across the meadow, ostensibly grazing, witnessing each other.
A raven as referee. Squirrels as ticking clock managers perched in the trees.
At river’s bank, they cross, then re-cross the water. The quick snap click scrape of antlers riveted to other antlers. They part. They move off. They rejoin, charging each other, circling dazed, but not confused.
Current readings: Melville’s Moby Dick ended Sunday night and Don Delillo’s End Zone will be finished today.
That is a breakfast I would have liked to be present for. Especially the clashing moose. Fantastic.