Tent in the Woods

Tent City is in the air.

Has it just arrived or…had it always been there?

The hillside is on fire with the anonymous.

Between the purple majesty…lay a forgotten influx.

No post in which to hang our flag.

No tails to be wagged.

michael
MIchael Ginnie: holding a picture of Junior. Junior ended up being surrendered. As Michael puts it, “…the winter outside…ain’t no place for a dog!”

Down country lanes with no true name…

No city grit to meet the feet.

How rural the homeland and it’s deceit.