She rolls over, the soft hiss of middle-aged flesh sliding through 300-thread-count cotton announcing her change in position. She is surprised by the darkness of her bedroom and the numbers on her clock. The sunrise should have happened by now. She groans and swears and flops on her back, squeezing her eyes shut. Continue reading
Writing
The First Hour Before Sunrise
The very first hour before sunrise is the most powerful time of day. Continue reading
Spring’s Assurance
Spring is late, delayed by a blizzard that left two feet of soggy snow, making my front stair’s existence a Schrödinger’s cat. When late April sun emerged, so did we.
Moonlit Balloons
High on the hill, strands of moon drift, catching on the branch-ends of the Prairie Honey Tree. Barren of leaves, she bows under the fullness of her particular progeny, Continue reading
A Raven Speaks
“What did you see at the North Falls, Silas?” Sylvi looked into his dark eye.
He searched for words. His head teemed with questions and sensations. Few people gave him his due, mistaking him for his smaller-brained, raucous cousins. Continue reading
A Frosty Farewell
The fog and sleet haven’t let up since we departed Per’s Point. This far north, the sun is never more than a few inches off the horizon, for a few hours at a time. Had we chosen Midsummer, we’d have had near 24-hour sun. Continue reading
Blank, Blank, Energy Breakthrough
The room sits at low-tide. Eddies twirl sluggish through muddy gray waters. Slow eyelids blink, sleepy frogs gathered ‘round in a circle. We hope that gathering and moving pen across paper will stir enough energy in this morning’s free-association writing group to stir those eddies into rivulets of free-flowing inspiration. Continue reading
Valley of the Trolls 