This Mountain

We live at the base of So-Bahli- Ahli. Lofty lady. It’s the name local tribes gave the mountain that presides over the living here in our far-flung corner of the Pacific Northwest. The valley of the Stillaguamish.  This was before the settlers came and the farmer that lost his horse.  The mountain that was once…

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…

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…