What dwells in you

 Had I not seen the squirrel, frozen to the limb of a tree, I’d never have known to look up. I’d have missed the magnificent red-tailed hawk circling above.

If you make a practice of walking in the woods, you see things you once would have missed. I wondered why the enormous dog, who is normally good on a leash, was so willful until I remembered that the coyotes have started mating. I’m oblivious to the messaging of female coyotes, but he isn’t.

Years ago, a friend who was an Episcopal priest would ask: And what dwells in you this day?

He didn’t want a throwaway answer. He wanted an account of the climatology inside my head — the dark storms as well as the sunny skies.

My friend is gone. But if I had to answer that question today, I’d have to admit that the Current Occupant of the White House has been taking up too much space. The Current Occupant merits a watchful eye. He doesn’t deserve to take up residence.

My grandfather used to speak of going out and looking at the things God made — as opposed to the messes that people had made. He usually said that while lacing up his boots.

It was a good walk in the woods along the Yellow River. It was a bit cool. The sky was cloudless, and you could hear the river singing in the shoals.