I don't have all the kinks worked out yet, but I know the dawn when I see it, coming thru a skylight & the magic of getting up early, in the dark…

I've had to self-analyze my penchant for cemetery photos this week…

I saw the fishing access sign a bit late, hit the brakes and made a sharp turn onto the rutted dirt track, bumping over a series of potholes, to a stop…

A scant third of the group went up, to the cliff and the ravens' world of conifers & sky…

It was maybe a month ago, and the town in the valley was filling with cars, bumper to bumper…

To me, this will always be "Wedding Dress Falls", but if any consummation has occurred here, it has been between the invisible…

What's left? What colors, which root systems? …

We can't always be close to the ones we've loved, but sometimes we can walk without them, as if they were there…

It's been a long week, and I'm washing stones…

I've always conflated music ecstasy with what was going on in my life at the time, and been driven down cow paths of self destruction, because of it…

Well then, what is allowed? …

When did all my gloves become the left one? …

I've needed envelopes to send out thank you notes, so I drive to my storage unit…

Drawn into the perennial chrysanthemum clusters, their buds about to burst burnt orange petals with golden centers, I feel something about my future, something ethereal, which is what plants do best, for humans…

It's getting darker earlier now & ominously, for those of us working long days and returning to cold houses…

Though I might be deemed "social" by a panel of experts, I've grown used to the heavy silences of rural life, sparkling at times, thick with bird song or crickets; or predatory, as in sudden downpours of pelting weather, not warm…

My friend told me it would look like a driveway but if I turned in on the hairpin by the mailbox & drove over the wooden bridge, I'd see a metal gate, and the acres owned by the state, managed by a couple brothers named "Orvis"…

Things pop into your head…

Here at the end of goldenrod, shouldering a seismic weight that glitters & fades in the fields, she moves seamlessly from fullness of summer, to the torpor that pulls everything down…

It started with a flat tire this morning, & the good fortune of having a compressor on site, and a friend who took on the task of figuring out a Chevy Silverado tire change…