whispering on air as out on the African plain a baby cheetah smacks her brother over the head and deep in Siberia a miracle enfolds . . . one of those places where the Khan and his court used to be . . . all those people long gone and mostly somewhere near the Black Sea and no one coming any more . . . a memory of celebrations and dancers covered with furs . . . all winter it went on and into spring when they mounted their horses and rode out to become the memory of whoever they attacked next . . . back with saddlebags filled with gold till that fall when they never came back . . . a dream but maybe . . . a light shining through the woods and a shout . . . but don’t get too close or they will shimmer away . . . better a mirage to remember than a plain old nothing one.
My winter series post for today over on my Substack at the link. Enjoy!
