Things We Never Cease to Wonder at

Two elephants at the Renaissance Fair walked in circles. Children were piled on top, $5 a ride, once around the circuit. The elephants' eyes were deep brown like polished agate, the dense black lashes like shy parasols. The wind had brought autumn. People huddled together, costumes or not. The dandies, a tight group of six or seven, seemed to tolerate the chill. But what did the elephants think of Minnesota? Why would anyone bring elephants here at the end of September. We had bananas in our bag, and an apple that our daughter wouldn't finish. The elephants moved past without much sound aside from their enormous breath. They walked with the patience to be quiet. We gave each of them fruit at the first pass. At the next pass, and the one after, they remembered us with grasping two-fingered trunks, slowing to test the trainer's patience because they can.