One autumn evening, under brilliant stars, a white coyote crossed the highway as we drove home from Oyster Bay. Its eyes glowed, and its ears were beautifully shaped, like receptors— every sound of the night entering them: owls, mice skittering under dry grass, a raccoon leading her kits to eat apples in moonlight, even the skeins of snow geese heading south in the darkness, muttering and calling, their navigational system a form of quantum entanglement.
—from Euclid’s Orchard
...Theresa Kishkan 