Wonderland

Below zero, as indigo wings flap madly,honing in on empty feeders, and we arisewith the wonder that any warm bloodedcreature can survive, urged now to provisionsmall bellies dependent on habits that mustbe sustained, having begun this particular dancewhen we arrived...

Forgiven

I could write about the tiny Arabian horse,her pale matted coat grown to maximumfor the winter, nature knowing what her childrenneed toward the end of life, once lusterand beauty as only youth can confer; later,stripped back to essentials, hip bones protrudingover...

Circle of Life

Nothing is ever a mistake, not evenwhat we toss into the maw of a waitingdonation bin, our acquisitionsand castoffs equally important to usin their time; And aren’t we a part of nature, brightflowers blooming their prolific heads offout there in the garden, then...