Swan

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…

Raccoons

Our mouths are full of blue corn chips when we see the hit.  We pause our chewing to mumble and point out at the dark, windshield wipers batting at the rain.  We are sure we saw something. Saw something rush out on the road and into the headlights of the car ahead.   “Possum?” I…

Moonlight Sonata

  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 dusk and swallows swirl about the eves. Music drifts out an open window – my son playing piano – like I have never heard before. Teenage angst…