Pink on the mountains as the sun falls behind the ridge and casts a shadow with a line inching upwards in gray as it sets. I climbed that peak and could picture myself on the top in a picture I… Read More ›
prose
While waiting for the harvest moon
Now the fog is on the lake and the lines are blurred again. A mist moves with the haunting grace of a ghost across the surface then disappears. The dock is closed to all activity, the swimming area marked by… Read More ›
Mimicry
I had to go back to where I was from. The beach, where the forest meets the ocean and the river lets in. In that golden autumn we were all forgotten. I hung my shirt on the back of my… Read More ›
Reckoning
It is uncommon and natural at the same time. In that bleak no tomorrow of only today the rain returns with a familiar slap. The languid tones play out. Reckonings, a stutter-step forward like some dream we’re a part of,… Read More ›
Talk about the passion
We got the house we always wanted but sometimes fantasized about having another, smaller one so we could re-experience life that way without the burden of having to do it full time. That happened on my morning walks to the… Read More ›
Book of mirrors
Dappled yellow leaves on the ground and rainwater gathered on trash can lids pooling in the creases. Back to wearing socks and donning my old sweater, funny things in pockets from forgotten times. Robins tugging worms from the scruffy rise… Read More ›
Saved by old times
Like a Greek myth that punishes its subject to suffer the daily pattern of futility as recompense for some trespass with the gods, so it was: not the recurring monotony of the pandemic but instead just getting our kids to… Read More ›
Damn good address for a rat
But for the crows it’s quiet on my walk to the lake. The clouds make it glum with the lawns going brown and the leaves coming down. I jump the gun with fall, my favorite season (the first half). In… Read More ›
Life’s rich pageant
For two weeks I ate the same sandwich from the 5 lb butt I smoked, pulled pork with pickles. Then I started ordering albums off Amazon without keeping track, and every day it was like Christmas as I backfilled my… Read More ›
Small towns, long looks, late summer one Saturday
When a car comes down the road we all look up. It’s like the looks we used to get from the locals pulling into that small French town. Morning clouds, afternoon sun. Saturdays sleeping in. Just the sound of the… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 