There’s a quality of light just after a rain, when the sun first shines through gray and turns every green thing several shades brighter. The birds are subdued, but sound hopeful. The light sparkles in drops of water suspended on pine needles. It dims, then grows, in a pulsing kind of dance, from gray to • Read More »


A crow wakens me from a dream that you found words I wrote in private. Some groundhog far away didn’t see his shadow, so now crows pair off, dancing, cawing, impressing mates for spring. I sleep and dream you found my journals. I wonder if you read my stream of consciousness, saw the flying buttresses • Read More »

Life’s palette

Souls come in splashes of color, intermingling, from pale spring pastel to chartreuse, opening a gaudy bloom in a hot summer garden, or tossing a pigment-saturated leaf in autumn. One fades, a soft breeze that waved flower tops departs in murmurs of leaves, a whisper lost. Another dies. All the flowers droop, leaves fall as • Read More »

Sometimes a flood

Grief lays stones in my heart, one for each loss, gemstones all, but it’s harder to pump blood around stones. Sometimes a family of beavers moves in, fells trees, sets up house. Minding their business, they don’t know they stop the flow. The pressure builds, wet, heavy, nudging rocks, until the dam bursts, catching me • Read More »