I can’t heal the world, not on my own. Can’t heal America, can’t do much beyond my own limited vision.
And yet… Continue reading
Grim Harvest
Lilimor slipped out the back gate, trotting to the meadow as fast as her little legs could carry her. She’d wanted to arrive at sunrise, before anyone noticed she was gone. Continue reading
Bananas/No Bananas
They leaned over the kitchen table, matching bookends on either side of volumes of generations. NPR broadcasters mumbled background from the kitchen counter. Continue reading
Sunrise Flash
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.
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
Valley of the Trolls 