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 that twilight hour and the newly arrived swallows swirl about the eves. Music drifts out an open window and I realize it is my son playing piano.  Playing…

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…

God Is Here

When I last travelled the desert, I passed this one empty house.  It was along a flat stretch of highway.  A straight away nearly twelve miles long. Springtime was busting out.  The desert filling with promise. Green spotted the hills and I could see dots of little yellow flowers. And rain.  Rain was loving the…

Fire

The plume rises before us.  White and billowy.  We watch from across the valley. Then walk back to our camp by the lake.  The beautiful alpine lake snug against steep cliffs – where remnants of snow cling to rocks on the far side. It is the place we pick to monitor the fire’s behavior.  To…

Methow Valley

I heard you grieve little has been going your way in the hills and valley of where we stand in the wind on a ridge above a valley, deep into pine and oak, lupine and sunflower. Deep into the learning of creatures small or ungulate, like the ones grazing the meadow, below. Maybe you know these…

Pretend you are Prairie

Let’s do it.  Pretend. Pretend  the wind is blowing or the grasses are bending. Maybe clouds swirl  or it’s hot and the sun bears down.  Pretend whatever you want.  Pretend you’re prairie if you want. Pretend you have  roots and blooms of yellow or blue. Pretend beetles crawl in the dirt of you.  Pretend you are…

Unravel

I awoke to unravel.  The word.  The verb.  I don’t know why.  I listen to my heart beat. Listen to the seemingly endless thud, thud, thud. It pauses and flutters and then as if I hit refresh, continues to bump along. I guess many things would unravel should the beat fail. Unravel, as in fail….

Summer

These days are golden. Or that’s what I tell myself as we head to the river. It’s what I told myself in June or May even, before school was out, the day we drive down to the bay to buy oysters. The day we sit in sunshine and eat cinnamon rolls in the afternoon for…