Words, wild and domestic make me their natural habitat, a ruby throated hummingbird and Grandma's bleating goat, its newest kid born at midnight, and a black rabbit named George, who walked on a leash, and oh, our geese who daily assaulted my mother, a woman with secrets. We should have heeded those birds. On safari in my mind, I track elephants, lions, and great apes, but need no native guards. These wild and household things devolve to words and I am grateful for their presence.
One response to “The Zoo Inside My Head”
I wish I had known mother’s secrets when I was 40 years. So, I don’t have to dream about them in my 70ths. It doesn’t go away. And yet without her I would be less than I am.