We debate what kind. Trumpeter or Tundra? Juvenile? Why alone here with the mergansers and mallards? We notice the shape of the beak. The nudge of orange. The grey rolling down the narrow neck and onto her back. Like dirty snow. Or clouded sky. The wonderous wings unfurl and spread every now and again. I…
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Jellyfish
“Do it again,” the kids yell. They crowd around as my husband leans over the side of the dock and traces his hand through the water. Flashes of green spark in the water. We all bend toward the water and splash our fingers, making trails of color in the dark. “Bioluminescence,” my husband says and…
