Attractions by John Allman



Whoever planted these Douglas firs must have known that sixty feet of darkness standing upright under a full moon would gather into itself more than reflection or paleness of age; that so many branches would never splinter to the weight of chickadees, nuthatches, cardinals. And must have known these flung arms would silhouette the space of Orion, unspeakable distances traveled by light would open in our blood like a fever, and I’d stand here in the hollow of a single moment running my finger along the smooth edge of being.