Little patches of light are breaking out all over your face.The sun is creeping through your hair.You are still sleeping, beautifully unawareof the hour or the place. Softly, I slip out the door and into the day.
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The Pinnacle
The summit never disappoints.Miles roll outto the south, east, and west.The sun is tap dancing off the lakeand there’s a chill breeze rushing in at me.This rusty little bench I’m sitting onmay as well be an Eldorado with the top down;I could go anywhere from here.
U-Pick
The apples are crisp and tart. The juice trickles down my arm.I kneel down to toss three more into an already full bag when I’m struck by the sudden memory of kneeling low like this so you could jump up onto my back. From there, I hoisted you onto my shoulders for a crack atContinue reading “U-Pick”
On The Way Home
A pair of Canadian geese floating in the rainon a tranquil Sunday morning.On the way home from work, I stopjust to watch them crossfrom one end of the pond to the other.Unlike me, they have nowhere else to be. Meanwhile, in distant churcheswith ornate architecture,stained glass windows, and oak pews,preachers preach down from their pulpitsaboutContinue reading “On The Way Home”
The Merging
Autumn rose. Steely grey and cold. By late afternoon the cicadas and crickets were singing again, and there was a hummingbird outside my window just a few short minutes ago, as bright as any summer dayand just as gone the moment I saw it.The merging of these two seasons speak all there is to knowContinue reading “The Merging”
One Summer Night At Lake Champlain
While coaxing a wilting campfire back to life,the most eerie, mournful sound I’ve ever heard crept in out of the darkness.Closer. Louder. Closer stilluntil there was nothing at allbut a thick, deep silence in its wake.It had sounded like…something dying, or dying to be heard. A loon for sure.Then I wondered, what might a loonContinue reading “One Summer Night At Lake Champlain”
Benches
There is no shortage of benchesalong the canal path where I walk.Some are old, graffitti’d, and splinteredwhile others are fairly new,and made of smooth gray metal.What’s rare is to find a single soulsitting in any of them. Such emptinesswould be enough to make anyone feel lonelyif they weren’t already, so sometimes I’ll stop,sink into one,Continue reading “Benches”
Flood
Rain fell.Rivers rose.Dams burst.Bridges crumbled.Roads vanished.Homes were washed away.Lives were washed away, too. Some heeded the warnings.Others never got them.Some found higher ground.Others drowned.There was no negotiating.No launching of missiles.No military force great enoughto poke the eye of the angry motherin her warring hour.
The Watcher And The Watched
What was once the hunter and the huntedis today the watcher and the watched.While the majestic jungle kingI came here to seeleers directly over at mefrom across the moat,licking his chops, salivatingwhile likely consideringwhat a tasty meal I’d make,I along with about fifty othersstand in place like ripe fruiton a high branch,clicking our expensive camerasandContinue reading “The Watcher And The Watched”
A Wooded Place
Some call it forest bathing, or so I’ve heard.I don’t call it much of anything,which is more to the point.I’m sitting here alone on this stump,and now it’s beginning to rain,not such a shame as you might think. The woods are humming with lifeand nature’s sweetest scents are all on offer here.I could be inContinue reading “A Wooded Place”
Mapping
Standing before a large map on the wall, I trace serpentine lines with my left index finger across all the places I’d goif I only had the time and freedom to roam.Maybe someday I’ll see these places as more than red and blue arteries stretching across oddly shaped borders.It suddenly occurs to me that I’veContinue reading “Mapping”
Out Here
What are we doing out here,somewhere north of nowhere,our feet sunk in the shallowsof a cold river bed? We were yearning and young once –memories come rushing downstreamas clear and rocky as this river bottom,glinting gold in the summer sun.
