House of the Hawk Trail, its 2-tier wooden fence flows
with raggedy shadow. A few Red-tailed hawks are riding
invisible
thermals, searching for prey, while I'm walking
home from a grocery store, 10,000 years ago, when we
began to grow food, because many of the animals we'd
hunted were already extinct.

Below a mountain whose ridges outline fractals from
the last
Ice Age, there's a pond where fledgling birds
float, dip heads under water, slide in. And Walden?
I've seen pictures in which
you and I must write
material culture and we must write the past and the
present. It follows that part of the creation of an altern-
ative native past and an understanding of material culture
will, of necessity, be to write it in a different way than
Henry's ghost no longer haunts its polluted shores.