January 7, 2018
It must be a beaver dam, such a heap of sticks and mud. I should be careful crossing this field as there may be deep water hidden beneath this dead grass. The beaver dam inhales and exhales. With every breath it rises and expands. When it exhales, it resumes its original shape and size. I am taken by a piece of grass stuck to one side. I walk closer. Yes, I should be careful, but this piece of grass is interesting. The sun hangs harsh in the sky, dimmed by the overcast. I reach out for the piece of grass.