“Here. We’re here.”
“Do you hear that Teddy? Where is it? Look harder, little guy.”
Golden grass, gray rabbit brush, alkaline white.
Soft cackling, a guttural purr.
I look harder, still in the wrong place.
Teddy’s black and pointy little nose pushes forward.
Between the field and the fence
Talking to each other — not to me — in the
of the Sandhill crane.