Voices on the Wind Voices in the Garden
SALTLICK by Cappy Love Hanson for Amber, Tuffy, and Willie At the back door mat I scuff off autumn garden duff, swipe away the sweat that trickles down the berm of my brows and stings my eyes. Step inside and flop down in a kitchen chair in flapping ragged man shirt and cut-offs. Two-fist a mug of water from the stoneware crock and take stock: What’s to show for this morning’s manual labor? Manure spade-forked into compost, mulch chopped up from cedar cooler pads for the Tombstone rose, cacti chicken-wired to keep out thirsty cottontails and jacks-- and a living saltlick for the dogs, who gather grateful tongues amid the table legs to sponge my shins for their delicious incidental manna.