ONE: SOMETIMES THE SKY AND A WOLF LIKE A VISION

Sometimes the sky turns mauve and can have streaks of white. It was like that, and I am not certain whether it was an Indian summer or late springtime that had become unseasonably warm. Beside a ravine I walked, hidden from the sky save for the times when spaces opened between trees. A wolf ran past, grey, large, in the other direction and just in a bit from the path. He or she was travelling beside the water’s edge. It was only a second that I saw it for. What was it doing there? I didn’t know. And what did it mean? What does a wolf mean? I paused, and looked back. Unlike a scampering and mangy coyote I once saw, coy, almost apologizing for itself, the wolf was incredibly quick. It was like a vision but it was not a vision. Not unless you obscure boundaries and call everything a vision. I wanted to see it, call it ‘him,’ but he was gone. As I walked I could not discern his meaning.