For that next bright dawn

The geese, all week, have been flying. Home. Away from this sharp promise of snow cutting through crisply darkening skies south, to the crucible of summer. Their far-carrying call slicing through the high, cold air picks up our hearts by the scruff and deposits them, safe but shaken and absurdly hungry for that next bright … Continue reading For that next bright dawn

Common magic

March lies covered under thick snow. Brown leaves have clung all winter to the stunted oak, rustling loudly as bitter wind drives across the tundra of the yard. They will fall in spring. Any day now, by the calendar. The hare's prints trace her hunt for any not-yet-gnawed shoots above the waist-deep drifts. We all … Continue reading Common magic