Laura has set.
Morgana is full and radiant.
Snowfields glitter.
Boulders and shrubs shine like silver.
A stream like mercury clucks and chuckles.
A cataract booms.
Stillness feels holy.
Air is chill.
Jack smells trefoil (sharp), livewell (sweet) and janie.
Breath smokes.
The low, tough vegetation has survived.
But wood will be broken below the timberline.
The depths are dark.
Jack will watch the dawn.
His transceiver beeps.
Emergency.
"Wingless" was an emergency at sea. "Rescue..." is an emergency in the mountains, the Andromedas, the Weathermother.
1 comment:
Kaor, Paul!
Having been a city bumpkin all my life I fear I would not be able to properly appreciate wildernesses as Jack Birnam does here and as Anderson shows us in many other stories.
Ad astra! Sean
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