Up high, down low the signatures mark us

The pitch dropped unnoticed into her hair. Like a nest, an unintentional dread lock a mass of tangles grew. "Is she preparing to dance with the pine needles?" Some one asked, I'm guessing it was Raven, as Sal began her day by the heater her fingers caught in her hair.

"I'll be here for awhile, making adjustments." It was a suitable reply to the tall old man who was already committed to help a friend bury her goat. No sign of a backhoe to dig the hole, Sam would be the hoe substitute.

"It's what you do," a typical Sam Tall reply. Conscientious and neighborly, he helps out.

"I've got to make peace with Cedar," Sal explained. Making adjustments meant resetting the red lights within her, the nervous system that reacts to the aromatics of the Long Fingered Waterproof living within inches of the porch's new location.

But the funny part was still what the Round Gal Sal was doing now. Working her little fingers through the signature of Pine Pitch that had fallen from up high to mark her down low. What is the message? "Grow down, acorn. Grow down. It's where your soul needs to go. Earthling." Funny how things happen.

The old wooden steps marked the place where Sam and Sally climbed up and down from the golden wagon. The space taken up by their vardo left barely a footprint. Salal will grow there easily now they have moved. Room to move.