Breathless

  The day is breathless. Tiny green buds on the windward side of a stark Stemmadenia unfurl quaking, tender leaves. Dogs lounge in the morning sun while horses and cattle graze languorously in neighboring fields. Cardinals whistle and trill while doves bob in...

Ravens, Not Writing Desks

Inexplicable, this love affair I have with Raven. My father hated the bird – stealer of eggs, killers of fledglings. It was in fact his disdain for these predators, combined with a protective reflex for their prey, that may have endowed the man with respect for...

Mi’kmaq

  One crisp fall morning about a dozen years ago, I spotted an adult female moose some hundred feet from the house. Steaming cup of tea in hand, I scuffled into house slippers and stepped outside to have a closer look. Though we lived in the Maine woods, a moose...