an hour before sunset dogwalkers lope out the Weaslehead as I run in my shadow plows the advancing path last spider of the year scoots for cover shivers of feathers in poplars puff and chip air musty with willow tints of dust necks straining, stretched three determined ducks pull last light over the river four […]
Here what I believe in is come and go; the morning push of tide  across a wide mud-flat, and at evening the pull. Sandpipers are congregating  because it is August. Because doctors read shadows into the white of your  bones, I have come. The grace of the blue heron in marsh grass […]
after Marcia Falk If you sit long enough in the city all the happenings become the same; every rushed swish of suit or worn-out shoe crisscrossing, circling like the scent trails of ants like water molecules in currents that converge, diverge, bump into flotsam and evaporate into the mouth of the wind. And you begin, […]
Between fits of wind a heavy quiet insists. It is dark. After dark in September silence becomes presence. The shadows of leaves twitch. Spooked, I glance sharply left – movement. Cougar? September divides into lists of things I know, things I don’t. No beast in the bush, no pounce. Between footstep and breath, remembered Septembers […]
