Wherever i look now i see red/white/maple leaf motifs and it seems i am regularly involved or overhearing conversations about the great icy spruce-scented wilderness. I guess that’s what happens when the focus of your life narrows to a beam; anything caught in the sweep of your headlights, scrutinised briefly, swiftly and subconsciously vetted, then logged as either insignificant or as undeniably meaningful: some kind of cosmically synchronous knot in the space-time continuum.
Things have the habit of just appearing more relevant. There are probably 20 million possums (apple eating tree bears to some)chewing on succulent leaf-tips at or about this moment. In the time it took you to read these lines, seven were struck dumb in the blaze of a speeding automobile, of which two lost their poor furry little lives. Generally the only time i think about opossums is on full-beam, just before i’ve gently adjusted my course to collide with one… then months, even years may pass before my next encounter.
Co-incidences are like possums: there are many more than you could ever imagine clambering about in the treetops of possibility, but it’s only the few who make it to the road that give us cause to contemplate.
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