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Winter Afternoon
1–2 minutesIn the folding horizon,a bare tree,branches like the stiff undersea coralI once found on a Hawaiian beach,dried out, twig-like, sculptedto hold something bigger than it. From far away, the crows look like fruit,perched there,small and ruffled,pressed into themselves,warm feathers in the wind. As I’m watching, a line of geeseflow over, their wings broad and dark,
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Last Long Blue
1–2 minutesThe sky holds on to blue long after sunset, condensed from day soaking into night, a blue like the blush on elderberries, like water as a cloud passes, calm, over a stream. I want to reach out and hold on to it, wrap it around me, jump into it, this, the last long blue of
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Poplar
1–2 minutesI look out the window at the poplar, leaves hanging, ancient, like a willow. It blows in the wind like sea grass, liquid, slow-motion, great sweeps that rest, dangling, between winds. Behind the poplar, the sky darkens, a muted gray-purple, holding both sunset and rain, the color of river rocks.
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Spring
1–2 minutesIt is the time of new green,of samaras jutting rose-pink from pale, fringed flowers;it is the time of milky elderflowersand soft-leaved thimbleberry;it is the time of salmonberry crowns,hairy and ready to bud;it is the time of the robin’s nest beneath the porch,and the chink of hummingbirds brushing past cedars;it is the time of unfurling.
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