In the late, gray January morn you have already moved on. Though the evergreens stand like Japanese watercolors in the fog, you’re making breakfast in your mind, making plans for the day. Though springtime stirs, but has hit the snooze—… Read More ›
After the wind storm I came downstairs and looked outside. The stars were out, the moon the shape of a hook, it seemed like it was just full. I lit some candles and made coffee. All this going back to… Read More ›
We miss the old times because we didn’t love them enough when we could, and we know it. We love them from afar, which is easier because most things look better from a distance. Things were better then, because we… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 