Interstitial

Five-thirty’s afternoon light fades from the Menominee where this water bug zig-zags northward over the glassy sturgeon-black surface of the river; a needle pulling threads of silver-speckled sunlight together, close as lovers, stitching a narrow pocket into which I slip secretly the ruins of another unmatched summer’s day.

The Bard Owl

  The scolding birds caught first my ear, then drew my eye into the tangle of midnight black pine tree silhouettes pressed hard against the late afternoon palette of deepening blue strewn with soft blooms of white, my glance caught then by the barred owl with his back against the black bark and his head … More The Bard Owl