bark


It was the night before the moon turned red. I was on a moor with a cat curled on my left shoulder, resting her face softly against my head and a beautiful lurcher laying the length of my left side. My eyes were closed and I was searching for the sleep both animals had found, when the stag barked. All three of us started at the sound, cat and dog switching from dream time to predation, I could feel the quiver of the chase shaking beside me as all of us moved upright together, intent on the outside. I didn't see the stag, even in the moonlight, but I will never forget that sound and the feeling of proximity to a being that is both beautiful and wild.

In my city life I throw those cords out to the beautiful wild everyday. It is mainly birds that brighten that way. Each time something in me sparks anew, its my life line to some essential part, that grows more restless in the concrete spaces, with the cars and careers that surround it. How I feel the earth in my bones again is part of my journey back to the wilder places.