“She was free in her wildness. She was a wanderess, a drop of free water. She belonged to no man and to no city”
She is the essence of wildness on the mountain,
moving like liquid silver
through the moonlit oaks and animate rocks
Her only trace is the faintest of footprints
and a whisper on the edge of the wind.
Photo courtesy of the author (yes, he really does track these critters)