Sleepy Gap, The Sound Of


Just a few miles outside of Asheville, headed toward Pisgah, there is small trail at the Sleepy Gap pull-off. It is astonishingly beautiful in the way that all births are “miracles”, but if it were a baby, it might not be endlessly cooed over. Still, it’s really nice. We descend down a trail, winding through the forest.

Rattlesnake plantains peer up at us as we walk by, mostly quietly. (The plantains. And us.) A small red-haired girl, a gangly gentleman, and a spritely dog.

The trail’s spindly trees* spiral and twist up to the sky, concerned with only their slow pilgrimage, and not so much with our descent, the upcoming presidential elections, or whether or not Season 4 of the Office was still good.

The trail meets a point that appears to intersect with a maintenance road. It’s very quiet. One can hear mostly crickets, some bending trees, and, in this moment, the collar of Muddy, the dog. A plane passes overhead. Presumably it is full of people who have been sitting uncomfortably for some time, many of them resigned to not peeing, even though they want to.

The sun filters through the trees with exceptional grace and skill. I could do that, too, if I wanted.



*I’m not much of a naturalist, okay? You know, they was small little things.

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