Forecast – Susanne Stich
We walk in the forest for hours. Bark masks us. Occasionally we call out to each other from afar, I’m here, here, followed by sighs of relief. Hearing mine, I imagine yours. At other times we meet, negotiate cobwebs, show each other the contents of our baskets, feel a yearning, don’t mention it, praise the birdsong instead, as if it hadn’t been there all along. When dusk sets in we drive home. Later we sit in the kitchen with the lights on. So many berries and mushrooms for one dark house. Of course we assume we’ll make it through winter.