When one set of goals is reached, how do you decide on the next plan of action?
In the summer heat, I have grown a prairie garden. Last summer, it was grass with mulberry shoots and a few thin wildflowers pushing their way towards the sun. Now, the bed is a procession of nodding blossoms and color. I do not know their names. There is no one to introduce us.
The dog and I walk across a salvaged piece of the real prairie. At the top-of-the-world, he leaps through the tall grasses, arching his back as if he is a dolphin breaking through into sunshine. The light glitters across his dark coat, his tounge lolls pink as a tropical shell.
I want to say "Please listen; stop shaking your head" but this is not what you've come for.
The papers criss-cross the table; no one wants to pick them up. I walk briskly from the air-conditioned room, through the double glass doors. What seemed wise once: cement pathways and cinder-block walls.