Open Sky
The clouds open up, showing a blue that is always so hard to remember. This blue is like a door or a window to another …
The clouds open up, showing a blue that is always so hard to remember. This blue is like a door or a window to another …
I wonder sometimes if it is primal, instinctive, and mythic, or if I have merely learned somehow to feel a certain ache when gazing at …
A pair of finches swoop and dive against a backdrop of eternal blue, playing a game of sky tag along the centreline as if …
I’m not sure why we’ve come to treasure these broken bits of discarded bottle coughed up by the tide. Perhaps it is because the sea …
I usually know, even before we arrive, whether I will find something in the sand—a special rock, a sand dollar, a mermaid’s tear. Truly, it …
It seems the days are perpetually overcast, the rain always just beginning or just ending. There is a constancy in the supply of fresh mud …
On overcast days, the dark comes especially early. The woods are too-quiet; the songbirds have flown. The white pine branches are still and cold, with …
In the early morning there was almost-ice. Now, the maple leaves float across the pond, the blue sky and dark branches reflected on the surface …
I would not even call it patience. She walks knee-deep in the still water, parallel to the shoreline. The tide rests in that still place …
It’s a strange beach. The irregular-shaped grey rocks are studded with occasional smooth circles of pink granite, bigger than I can lift. Everything I know …