Revelations at the Boundary

I stopped at the sign DO NOT ENTER on the side of the path near the woods. Only service vehicles were invited further. I listened, watched. Who claims home beyond this sign? Two fox squirrels with ample frothy tails flew from stump to branch, to branch. Doves cooed; crows squawked; woodpecker knocked; cardinals cheeped; mockingbirds mocked. Deer and fox who don’t have English as their second language had forged past the sign recently, their tracks in the sand. Leaves and trees were living, dying, dead there. And silence held among it all. Wind entered undetected except for what got stirred by its presence, stilled after it passed through. I was delighted by the array of life that didn’t obey the sign, that I might have missed had I not stood still a while. As I turned to walk back the way I came, thirty wild turkeys had gathered then parted like the Red Sea as I walked down the path. They watched me carefully, maybe heard me say quietly, “Hello, no need to fear, good to see you.” What a gift from paying attention to the sign…

1 Comment. Leave new

  • Madeleine Ritchie

    Oh, Amy, your sensitive heart becomes such a gift through your words. Thank you!


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