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…

Grouse

It’s the hard business of being that gets to me.  That’s what I’m thinking.  I’m thinking about the way you get worn down.   The day in and out of work.  Stumbling at the end of a day in the woods, or no woods, the ones cut down and me thrashing through the dog hair…