By Anthony Cardellini

If you walk along the corner where Northwoods Drive meets Northwoods Street in Lake Tahoe you will see the beginning of a trail. The trail is long and winding and it goes into the woods and ends above the lake which sits in stillness. Today a rabbit is on the trail. Frightened by cars it leaves the Northwoods corner and passes the boulders and goes by the tree with carvings and hops beyond the swing and throws itself into the lake. For a minute the lake seems disturbed but blink and you’ve missed it because it’s already still again.

By The Urban Spaceman

Last year was lean-times. Plentiful rain and warming sun nourished verdant fields of rice and millet and sugarcane. Herds of sacred cows and droves of goats grew fat with wheat and calf and kid. The farmers and their families feasted every night.

This season is better. Drought-boiled soil dries to dust, crops shrivel yellow and brown, streams run bare to bed. Starvation haunts the sacred beasts, their bodies withering to fly-swarmed leather and sun-bleached bone.

The vulture’s sharp eyes catch the stumble of another dying cow. He spreads his wings and swoops down to enjoy his breakfast.