Category Archives: Prose

Horses in meadow

On the first clear day in several, on the way from car to back door, my glance was drawn through withered pear tree branches.

A familiar motion of far away lazy tail betrayed horses, apparitions, flashing brilliant white, deep in distant swollen green freshening meadow.

Habitually turning toward home, thinking not much of noticing the horses in their pasture, in a very few steps I realize it’s been many many years since horses pastured here. 

 

Breakfast Date

An early appointment the day of the storm had me awake closer to daybreak than usual.

As I walked across the living room, I noticed that the leaves of the houseplant, that “found it’s window” several years ago were trembling.

Even though they calmed to stillness  when I stopped walking, I kept looking at the leaves.

I perceived that I saw them start to move again, growing, turning, yearning for pale dawn light.

Movement in the yard drew my eyes through the window, beyond the plant.

There, a sentinel doe draws attention from her young buck as they breakfast. His rack raw and white, velvet recently scraped, now ready for rut, ready for winter.

Birch

This birch, too close to neighbor hemlock, grows leaning, finds sun where it can. This wet pale October shows little more color than this birch scar.

Maple splashes yellow here and faraway there. Squalls alternate sun, blue and wet across the sky. Playful youngsters now, they’ll mature as real cold sets, getting running starts from west of Erie.

Almost snow today, cold to soon come. Any last colors will present, dry and fall as seasons deepen.

October Morning Geese

While enjoying the temperature and clarity of a fine October morning, the distinctive honking of geese punctuated an otherwise calm mist rising from the valley.

After what seemed like minutes, the gaggle revealed itself. Flying at a considerable altitude, these birds were not commuting across the neighborhood; they were on their way with intent.

From the back of the yard, a doe snorts,  flashes buff from the tall grass, comes to attention, ears poised, eyes intent, gauging me as friend or threat.

The shadow crossing the sun and yard pulls my eyes up as a tree top turkey vulture pulses wings toward unobstructed sky.

Colors seep slowly stronger, gilding leaves and hills, on this fine October morning.