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…

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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…

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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