How the sky draws down, this time of year, when it’s newly spring: there is no urgency to its ending, not like fall or winter: it is the start of the long days of haplessness, the spooling out of light,… Read More ›
nature
Twilight September
In the late afternoon shadows, by the underlit leaves, near a tree bent by the weight of its own fruit…in the breeze between summer and fall: there, in the crook of a bush by a rock I spied a colored… Read More ›
Late morning early fall, the beginning of the end all over again
I go to nature to heal, I go every day. And though it always feels the same, it never is. I rummage through the past and present, I go looking for what others leave behind. I didn’t expect the moon… Read More ›
Following false leads down the side streets to identity
Though it would hit 85 in Seattle (the last time for a year) I was sickly, pale and soft, an analogy to a piece of fruit that’s gone bad from the insides. I got off the phone with KLM to… Read More ›
‘Reentry Burns,’ coming back to America
When I got back from Germany Dawn met me at the airport and we went for lunch at the brewhouse. The bathroom smelled the same as it always did and I think the bartender recognized me, even though we’d been… Read More ›
Who made the constellations
The days fanned out, an ocean of stars came into view And Crow was there too, a star in each eye gave him sight — the same glow on his wings gave him flight, and though it took a million or more… Read More ›
A new path to the Lantern Tree
I’m driving my kids into the deserts of eastern Washington where it’s near wildfire season with no appreciable rain in 30 days, and we stop at a Texaco near the town Vantage, and I think surely that smoke in the… Read More ›
Moon song for März
The moon is yellow and full and low in the sky and the sky no longer drops now, it’s a slow fade to dusk. I walk the lake road and a car comes round the bend and with the swoosh… Read More ›
Open your heart to the trees
The doormat can’t go askew but it does, and I have to straighten it each time I go by. Cats act no different than people when they’re high on cat nip, on drugs: self-centered, prone to violent acts. Still I… Read More ›
Lost in the woods
It wasn’t in the outfit I chose for myself each day before going to work, and it wasn’t in the mirror or the photographs on our walls at home. I lost track of where it went and sometimes wondered if I… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 