August 10, 2011

August 2, 2011

July 24, 2011

In ten minutes, we shuffle through two months in the forgotten page-a-day calendar on her nightstand. She pauses longest for Homer.

July 23, 2011

An open book in the road. It flaps and flaps.

April 7, 2011

I pick you up and bring you home,
like bread/milk/eggs before a storm.

March 2, 2011

Fiona and Kaspalita of Writing Our Way Home have already compiled January's river of small stones into a lovely little book and chose to include two of mine. Click through and have a look.

January 31, 2011

Dead of night and the wind chime begins its faint, trickling call.

January 29, 2011

Street light instead of moonlight. I stop a moment before going inside.

January 28, 2011

The clouds settle low today, mimic mountains.

January 26, 2011

Click, click of the warming oven. Butter sitting out to soften.

January 25, 2011

Cat curled on socked feet, and I slowly feel the day going.

January 24, 2011

Suddenly: Geese today on the suburban edge of rush hour, 30 or 40 of them on a small stretch of ground, nosing their beaks about in the still-here-after-weeks-of-cold snow.

January 22, 2011

In the snow, a small tree of robins. They scatter evenly over bare branches, bobbing fat on the ends like strange Christmas ornaments, bright, and feathered, and blinking.
Let the day open.

January 20, 2011

Snow pulls me down a winding street I do not know.