He stands on the bank where forest parts to sunrise on the rich strip of green, and lowers his muzzle to feed. Thick grass pops between his rotating jaws, snapping as he tears into clumps of equally satisfying roots.
Author: Liz H-H
Summer’s End
School is out for the summer, but not for much longer.
The days grow short, the nights shine sweet crystal, cool under fulsome moons. Bare armed with glass raised high, we toast midnight relief from saturated days, leaning back into night’s caress. Continue reading
Homecoming
Deep winter, full moon, subtle rhythm of skis hissing through snow just-crystallized after a day of drifting flakes. No firm path, just skirting the deep wood where nobody with good sense enters after dark. Continue reading
Almost Ready to Fly
After a crackling-hard winter, she was relieved to drag the Adirondack chair out of the shed. Morning sun dappled through the leafy canopy overhead, warm enough to make outdoor morning coffee outdoors feasible, but not enough to waken mosquitoes. Continue reading
The Shining Golden Pig
In this endless summer:
Dripping slabs of watermelon are handed to overheated children, and hailstorms rip through vinyl siding. Continue reading
To Unravel, or Repair?
The spell had existed, long before she’d begun chronicling by gathering their hair. Candle-lit, she bent over the long braid, a weave of auburn, nut-brown, curly black, and her own pale blonde. Continue reading
Sharing Dream Time
She rolls in flickering blue and white, darts between other bodies, slick and shining, touching but not colliding. Breaching, she leaps into the moon, heavy with promised bounty. She swallows silver light, joyfully sated as it fills her center. Continue reading
Valley 