
Waking from a night of regular dreaming, I found myself still in Montana. Can’t ask for more. Now that John is back, the pheasant has stopped his predawn stroll and crow. Maybe he senses a man in the house. He sticks to his harem and leaves me to John. It is my complete pleasure to have John back. He cleans the way I like, collaborates in the kitchen without fuss, speaks in our common language and plays the accordion for the waving grass and me.