The thing I least expect is to be tricked into laughing.
My plan is to blubber and wallow. It’s going well.
I am stewing in my stories of defeat.
But I am not the only one here.
And I am not the only one who chooses.
I am interrupted by the arrival of the Sacred Fool.
A springy young male emerges from the willows.
He is so close I smell the forest on his fur.
I am levitating in delight.
He doesn’t see me.
Now he does!
Leaps in a goofy spasm, darting away with his ears pinned back.
No. Hold on.
This One is coyote.
Regains his composure.
I watch his head rise proudly and his tail relax, then drop with purpose.
He turns around slowly and gives me a long, steely study.
What does he see?
I am released.
Shuffling calmly to the pond, he pretends to ignore me.