Monday, August 24, 2015



i saw a raven,
midnight and blue,
drink his fill from the storm gutter,
while the mallards endlessly practiced
their avian geometry —
etching watery triangles through sunlit shallows
where the pond weeds watched, dressed
in their early fall colors.

the birds didn't sing
a note.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

summer rambles

How can it be August already? 
June and July raced by, filled with things both profound 
and profoundly mundane, as usual. 
Here's a recap:

A young woodpecker waited for his parents to bring him lunch. 
(He seemed perfectly capable to me, but who am I to judge avian parenting styles?)

June garden discovery. 
(The cat left it alone - I can't say the same for the opossum that we spied the next night.)

Coneflowers bloomed ...

... and wilted in August's heat.

And between the lines, life happened.

Doesn't it always?