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…

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…

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…