The cottonwood started falling and now it feels like we’re in a snow globe that won’t stop. Charlotte and I went to the aquarium and looked at the octopus, its sheep eyes, the valves where the cheeks would be, opening… Read More ›
short form
Broken clouds
In the morning the tops of the trees were pale-pink from a sun I couldn’t see, and it was cool enough I needed a sweater for my walk. It was just me on the road until I got to the… Read More ›
Each day, in-stead
It’d been a while since I took my morning walk to the lake. I couldn’t remember the last day I did but it didn’t matter, they all ran together. Passing the birds and rabbits I wondered how it felt for… Read More ›
The crow can’t sing, it clicks
Down the blooms fell, a different kind of fall. We did the spatchcock chicken again with the New Orleans rub and the leftover corn and asparagus. It was one of the best days I had at my new job, and… Read More ›
No soft shoulders
On my walk to the lake it was definitely May, with a thin film of fog and many colors beneath. The pink cherry blossom blooms thrown down like confetti — the robins and rabbits, all the sights and sounds of… Read More ›
Walk on guilded splinters
Though it works hard it’s the slowest clock I’ve ever seen, falling behind by an hour or more every day. I finished my first two weeks in the new job, celebrated our wedding anniversary late, worked through some issues with… Read More ›
Arabesque No. 2 in G major
At last the rain stopped, and the fog set down on the tallest trees. Their shoulders were slung low from the weight of it all, and the morning street lamps were on their last shift. But the birds sang as… Read More ›
Music for airports
At the far end of the couch, where the dog waits for us when we’re gone, I laid my book and my head down and looked outside at the gray and the green. We were still on east coast time,… Read More ›
Iceland spar
Friday, April 13 Allentown, PA Between me and the homeless guy the table remained open the whole time I sat at the Starbucks. I wrote and watched him from the corner of my eye stirring his coffee. Three regulars at… Read More ›
Sonata in C major, “rites of spring”
Spring cleaning comes when I just can’t take it anymore. All the cobwebs we haven’t seen, the dust, the feeling the whole house smells. Everything needs to be taken apart and blown out. A half pot of coffee followed by… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 