Get 20M+ Full-Text Papers For Less Than $1.50/day. Start a 14-Day Trial for You and Your Team.

Learn More →

Letters Back Home

Letters Back Home M. Lock Swingen Mother, I have crossed the roads twisting like sheep guts in the foothills above the shores of the far valley. This land is less wild than I would have suspected: an expedition has set up a camp of stakes, posts, and huts along a brook that strings together a bevy of beaver ponds; who these men are I cannot tell, colonists or fur trappers maybe, which says something about their secretive ways, but I have moved on, holding fast to our undertaking, into woods and lowlands where the ground is marshy, where elk, probing the wetlands for grub to graze, leave tracks of waterlogged hoofprints awash with tadpoles. Mother, why is everything so heartbreaking? Ribbon snakes gorge themselves on the darting tadpoles, and goshawks carry away the snakes wilted in their talons. You told me once when something was made to move it was made lengthwise like horses or roads or shadows, and when something was supposed to stay put it was made up-and-down like a man or his growing sons. On o≈cial roads I see how the capital fills you with scorn, where restless men on horseback spit in passing doorways and make others fidgety http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

Letters Back Home

Prairie Schooner , Volume 93 (3) – Dec 21, 2019

Loading next page...
 
/lp/university-of-nebraska-press/letters-back-home-R3dRHRYC26
Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X

Abstract

M. Lock Swingen Mother, I have crossed the roads twisting like sheep guts in the foothills above the shores of the far valley. This land is less wild than I would have suspected: an expedition has set up a camp of stakes, posts, and huts along a brook that strings together a bevy of beaver ponds; who these men are I cannot tell, colonists or fur trappers maybe, which says something about their secretive ways, but I have moved on, holding fast to our undertaking, into woods and lowlands where the ground is marshy, where elk, probing the wetlands for grub to graze, leave tracks of waterlogged hoofprints awash with tadpoles. Mother, why is everything so heartbreaking? Ribbon snakes gorge themselves on the darting tadpoles, and goshawks carry away the snakes wilted in their talons. You told me once when something was made to move it was made lengthwise like horses or roads or shadows, and when something was supposed to stay put it was made up-and-down like a man or his growing sons. On o≈cial roads I see how the capital fills you with scorn, where restless men on horseback spit in passing doorways and make others fidgety

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Dec 21, 2019

There are no references for this article.