Aigrettes And in that placeof windswept wonderbetween dreamand longing there are wings ofwhiteness. So pure and holyuntouched bythis world. Dressedin grace plumage soft asdevotion. The eyeof

The hummingbird moth arrives on our door. He stays–for days–as if a sentinel. I come to depend on his presence. A yellow bird dances in flight with a butterfly until two become one. A blonde fox leaps through the tall grass focused on her pressing schedule.

I’m here I’ve arrived in rural Minnesota a small town where The Dairy Queen is the threshold guardian along Highway 75. I admit, when all the world seems too much for me I seek refuge with her in a vanilla swirl dipped in nut crunch. My camper rocks back and

Fresh air. That’s what it comes down to. My mother dwells on the threshold between life and death. I enter her room she lifts her bone-thin arm and tired finger. She points to the window, “Let’s have some fresh air, shall we?” At another time she’d say, “Let’s have a

I met two feral kittens at death’s door. So ill they could barely stand. Eyes filled with infection lungs rattling. Now a year old they follow me through the rooms of the house as if I am their sun. As if our home is their earth. They circle around me

I told Larry I fly-fish. I’ve fly-fished most of the Western United States. I have my favorite spots. Well… all of them, really. There is the input at Emigrant by Chico Hot Springs in Montana. Floating the Yellowstone is heaven. There’s a good fly shop in Big Sky. Sisters, Oregon

Last night the winds arrived. Gusts of 75 miles per hour. My dog and I huddled in the basement shivering like two squirrels in a nest. Today on my walk I see shingles scattered across the road. Do they know so many are missing? I look up. Half my neighbor’s

Winter has arrived. The nights navy blue aky is lit by the full moon. Clouds quickly move across the prairie gathering separating the shapes morphing like time lapsed photography: a seahorse a carriage a crown. The winds announce the season’s change with their cold Arctic chill. They blow relentlessly across

That’s what I needed. Really needed. I needed to curl-up in the hollow of an old tree like some wild animal a squirrel a fox maybe a badger. Circle round and round rearrange the dirt prepare my bed make my own warmth. I needed to fall into a deep winter

I hand wash the antique camisole then hang it on the line. I watch it gently blow in the wind anchored by the wooden clothespins. The prairie breeze touches each thread each memory the hard work the heartache the hardheaded. Open to adventure she willingly came here. She arrived to

In the darkness of early morning the supermoon descends to the horizon. She is like a nightlight. Strong shadows fall against the white snow becoming longer with dawn. An airplane moves across the navy sky 40,000 feet up. Behind it a long tail is left in its wake. Heading west