Modality Audible

A vagrant sound, an animal, sounded like a cat, but could have been anything. Enough to get me outside with a flashlight, it's a raccoon, horribly damaged, either a pack of dogs or an inept hunter. I go get a gun, put it away, best thing you can do, a situation like this; I don't like doing it but I don't have a problem pulling the trigger. Just before sunset, a shaft of sunlight broke free, a pie in the sky, everything it exposed became more than real, an emphasized reality, and I merely nodded. Nothing, really, you could say. Wow, but what does that express? I wonder. A Bach fugue chases its tail, everything that can be said about a certain subject. I don't know why it's suddenly clear to me, maybe just that seven worlds collide. String theory. Everything ends. We could walk in the dimming light. It's still beautiful, but the edges of the leaves have turned and there's a lot of brown. The angle of light and the colors now adumbrate winter, you can feel an edge to the wind, and the days are shorter. I'm ok, I think, but I don't have the confidence I've usually had facing this change in weather. Drag in the sheep-watering trough, heat water, scrub off a layer a skin and consider my recent mistakes. I'm not that good at living in the world, but I have a tough body; not strong particularly, but my bones are good and I heal quickly. After the bath I treat some surface injuries and chide myself for not being more careful. I want something good to eat, an omelet, with onions and mushrooms. I play to this part of myself, the part that wants something specific, and I have some dried morels that I reconstitute in chicken broth. I cook an entire onion until it almost disappears, add the mushrooms and the broth, cook off the broth, stir in three eggs. Not just any eggs, totally free-range, you might call them wild, chicken eggs, I had to put on a climbing harness and repel down a slope to get them. There was a opossum, edging closely, and I beat it off with my umbrella. Everyday life is a challenge. It's awkward, earning a living. Please tell me you care. Emily is above all that, beyond care, into the netherworld. The North Country Fair. Almost a circus. The hallowing winds. The borderline. The river won't hold you forever. Trust me. She's a girl with a face long gone. If I were just a carpenter. Carry it close to your chest, whatever it is, if I were a carpenter.