I don’t know about you, but I’ve always loved flowers best just before their petals fall … It’s as if, in the final days of their existence, they decide — at last — to open fearlessly wide, in the most elegant disarray. They hide nothing. Hold nothing back … And then they’re gone. Today, […]
I have a certain memory:
I am just a girl — nine, maybe ten.
I am balancing on the long railing that runs around our family’s big raised deck. One foot in front of the other, arms outstretched for balance, I walk a slow circuit, over and over again: amazed at …
I find the first yellow leaf the way a woman finds the first gray hair, and feel it like a betrayal: I have so much less time than I thought. And still, the light fills up the rooms, yellow and warm. The green leaves tap the upstairs windows at night. Fireflies spark in the meadows. […]
… to speak the song the cicadas are singing —that murmur and hum filling the trees.But their song is wholly their own,and no matter what words I use,mine would only be a poor copy —and why bother to copy such a thing,when anyone can go out on a summer nightand sit spellbound to the soundof the original? But […]
III. A week ago, I am driving down a country road that hugs tight to the curves of the river. The road runs long through a tunnel of trees, and I am driving behind a tractor trailer, its top so high that it lops off all the low-hanging limbs as it goes, sending a shower of […]
I. Summer opens wet and green: foolish as first love. Each leaf unfurls, fearless of frost. It cannot imagine such a thing as Winter. II. I have a certain memory: I am just a girl — nine, maybe ten. I am balancing on the long railing that runs around our family’s big raised deck. One foot […]