<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body dir="auto"><div dir="ltr"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 22px;">Black Friday</span><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: 1.2; font-size: 22px;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">While families bleed their wallets </span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">into big-box stores</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">my son and I flee to the forest.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">We visit our favorite campsite</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">walk the plank bridge</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">gambol in the innards of a tunnel tree.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">We swill a keg of memories </span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">in the clutch of thousand-year-old redwoods</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">gulping wisps of minted air.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I show him the snapshot of himself at three—</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">white Mowgli poised among the Steller’s Jays—</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">screaming to the world “I am”.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">We commune with deer and turkeys</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">visit the damned-up creek—</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">our former swimming hole—</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">closed for the season or lack of interest.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I ask if he’ll pose inside the tallest tree again</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">and flower at the ease of his assent.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Pointing the camera toward its black-green limbs</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I catch a penumbra of cross-hatched light</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">beaming bands of magenta and gold</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">that frame him like a pale Pieta.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Light is anesthetic;</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">we’re held in its eternal grasp.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">At twenty-four, he’s lost the concept of shun.</span><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The day marries us to a new groove.</span><br><br><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">- Sandra Anfang</span></p></div></body></html>