Chickadees, snowshine, tourmaline skies; Blue jays, jack pine, solitude mine.
On the last Saturday of my 40s, I drive alone to Fish Creek to take the Sunset Bike Trail at Peninsula State Park. It occurs to me as I review the map, then fold it into small rectangles and put it into my back pocket, that if I live to be 96, it’s a decade … More 9.6 Miles in September
Overcast skies cast over / this lake, my unquiet mind / the fish dart away /
An old house, these woods / sunlight drips through leaky trees / on the forest floor /
Cathedral pines rock – in this ocean of green waves – I roll through and drown.