. . . like a dog between 4 trees . . . —e-mail from a friend Toward the end of this summer, this long labyrinth, I thought of you in a clearing green and sunlit, bordered by four tall trees and the dusky spaces between them where barely discernible rhododendron start the process of shadows. Light moves on your turning shoulders and on the four tall trees: the black walnut, the copper beech, two sycamores peeling to bonewhite the sun loves most. It's not only the trees but more than your fabled dog's choices; it's those darknesses between that like me you are lured to choose. But you are arrested there— watching the swallowtails feed on the aster, then go in and disappear.
Reprinted by permission of Louisiana State University Press from Without A Philosophy by Elizabeth Morgan. Copyright © 2007 by Elizabeth Morgan.