Yellow

Just the other day. Yellow.  As we walked through a wet forest toward an unknown place. Stop hikers and ask how far? Embarrassed after they pass.  We’re mountain climbers. Trail builders.   “When was the last time we did that?” my husband asks. “How far to the lake?” But we are tired after a late…

Ice

I am very glad to start the year with a short piece of fiction selected for the Winter 2021 issue of Up North Literary Journal. I hope the New Year is better for all of us – everywhere. Blessings. Dawn Erickson — Up North Lit Up North Lit

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…