I stand in the garden watching a crescent moon hover above the tips of the fir trees. The thrushes surge in their singing as they do at that twilight hour and the newly arrived swallows swirl about the eves. Music drifts out an open window and I realize it is my son playing piano. Playing…
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A Cold Wind
I must tell you it wasn’t an extraordinary day. An old man in a hat walked around the yard. A boy sat in a chair. Then a cold wind came down the boney back of the mountain. But what was I expecting? The cat stared out the window as wind tossed the branches about and …
