Article Title

The face in the tree


It was an overcast, November day, cool and still. A good day for a walk along the gravel roads in rural Virginia where I live. I had been struggling with words all day, trying to find them, tame them, use them. The act of walking calmed me; the cool air filling my lungs, refreshed. As I rounded a bend in the road, I felt myself being watched. I looked up and saw an odd-looking creature eyeing me from the crook of two bare branches. I studied the long white oval face, the narrow slanted eyes lined in black, the pink nose, the rounded black ears with pink tops. It didn't look quite real, more like the face of a plush toy, or a novelty balloon. For a moment I thought it might be a stuffed animal that someone had put in the tree as a joke. But as I advanced it moved the tiniest bit, keeping its beady eyes on me.



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