Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Morning’s mantra, April
Springtime is one of the most beautiful times where we live. It’s a bath of sensory delights, especially in early morning. The distant woodpecker rattle, the sweet birdsong as it builds. Some crows and repetitive sounds all layered together. I… Read More ›
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Your portion of life on a plate
When we got the warning about a violent storm coming we drove to the store for ice cream and organic cheese puffs and gas for the generator in case the power went out. I had gotten the blue light pre-cancer… Read More ›
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My heart aches for these days
In the morning on the warmest day it’s still cool but you can feel the temperature start to change. I get to the park earlier than normal and the sky is the color of abalone shell, turquoise mixed with pink…. Read More ›
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The you you are now
Sometimes when I’m walking the trail in the early morning dark I’ll sense motion and realize there’s a large deer crossing my path. Dawn said there’s been coyotes attacking people in Bellevue and I should carry a cudgel. Maybe a… Read More ›
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The algorithm remembers
It’s an ungodly hour, 4 am. Even the heat hasn’t come on yet so it’s just me and the coffee maker, the odd mechanical sounds of the house idling. But I love this time in the dark to sit with… Read More ›
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Season’s surplus
There is more life than I can use, so I squander it on fruitless things like video games or bad books or going to bed early. The funny way life inches forward mostly unseen. The spring blooms that would bring… Read More ›
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Indefinite loop
2023 By the time spring started I hadn’t worked for four months. There’d been a short gig in December but prior to that, nothing since June. The agency I contract with slows down in the summer as their primary client… Read More ›
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Come on Eileen
Now in this corner of the night it is all quiet save for the sound of music coming from the end of the hall. A song from the 80s with a fiddle, a song they played while Lily was visiting…. Read More ›
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The better together speech, 1984
The way the clouds pass across the sky and stretch like see-through gauze through my window. Stretching back to another time. Stumbling onto the stage and crossing it as a 14-year-old. Dropping my speech, the papers scattering across the floor,… Read More ›
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My prayer for you
Patches of snow in the foothills on a bleak morning in March. It is your first week sober. You’ve been a daily drinker for 20 years now and this is the longest you’ve gone since you can remember. It is… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 