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…

Drift

Summer and the day drifts and shifts away. Like clouds. Shape of a rooster or whale. Shaded patterns along grasses. Branches that bend against sky. Or leaves. Dappled.  There are shouts of a man and the bark of a dog.  Voice of an owl calling,  in an evening,  as the day slips, as you study…