Nature, Nurture

   Nature doesn’t take more than it needs.  When it rains, the drops are welcomed for what they are. Used up quietly.  Sunshine is thanked in the way leaves warm to green and birds chime at daybreak.  Nature waits and blooms and fades, pushing into or pulling against a river’s current or sandy soil.  Nature finds a … More Nature, Nurture

Color Blind

Did you see the same sky I did tonight, after dinner? The last of rich sauce and gristle left off from the meat. Swallowing one more jagged crust of bread, the last pull of wine, then lurching to the driveway so I could stare at white swaths of flimsy atmosphere and wonder where such a thing came from. It wasn’t expected, … More Color Blind

Toby

His voice from across the tavern table, drew sounds upward from a windworn notebook, low, sure, and gravelled on every few consonants. It pulled in a page of etched words, dark ink, about an ocean and long days of quiet at sea. When he finished, his worked and bitten fingers folded the pages back over … More Toby

Not Walter

There is a man who lives in his truck behind the church near our house. He’s been there since springtime. It didn’t take us long to give the dark-haired man a name: “Walter.”  We felt unsettled that he was around, stuck, with seemingly no where to go.  This is our neighborhood, our space. We walk the dog in the late evenings, and … More Not Walter

My Inner Heisenberg

Walter White.  If you know this name, you know Heisenberg.  It’s been weeks since the series finale of “Breaking Bad.”  In this house, we are veiled in lethargic mourning.  Evening television is flat, faulty, unsatisfying now that we have finished a month-long Netflix marathon of watching the life of Walter White evolve and dissolve. I miss … More My Inner Heisenberg