It’s like stumbling upon a team of battle-hardened Navy SEALs reciting Emily Dickinson in a blackberry patch. So much tactical precision and rugged fortitude, but eloquence and elegance to match. Black currant night vision over sweet sage tortoise-shell glasses, blueberry marmalade 50cal bullets in violet-lavender baskets, boysenberry rucksacks full of leather-bound poetry. Then, enemy footsteps, and they disappear into the forest floor. Because like Emily, they certainly won’t stop for Death, but disturb their day off and they might just make an exception.
