The crust of snow renders the clear sun blinding

The barn cats, huddled and hungry, have not ventured forth to beg in the dooryard today. The stalwart horses, shaggy in their winter coats and snugged in blankets, have chosen to remain in the shelter of their run-in stalls— those hard-wired grazers who prefer to spend days in search of remaining blades of green beneath… Continue reading The crust of snow renders the clear sun blinding

A pile of airy bones in an attic room beneath the pitched roof

I want so much to write. I’d like to be still for a day or two; to draw. To draw at a rate more like I was in October— daily. Or nearly so. To have space for things to percolate and bubble to the surface from below. Instead, I’ve been kept moving, pulled in multiple… Continue reading A pile of airy bones in an attic room beneath the pitched roof