Window Panes

A quiet I thought I was a part of: tea-steam rising and touching my face, a book in my lap, words rising like mist from a cataract of print, quail scratching up corn to music, the sun amortizing a hollyhock. Then my windows banged and shook. I saw the hawk’s dive conclude, quail like flying…

The Pass Over

A flock of sunlit swans flies down our winter river. The new snow spread like a clean tablecloth— so cold the ice-flecked air glitters. An arresting rarity in this valley they unzip the day and divide silence from the need for silence. Arguing over whose turn it was to take him to his next treatment,…

Only at Night

Tonight the sky is clear and the stars spill their light like frothy buckets of milk hurrying home. All the farmhouses are asleep— only lamps and barnyards keep reading. The fields, blankets dimly aglow. With their spread tails, free-falling snipe call to each other until the air is as filled with their mellow yearning as…