White desk with pink notebook, roses, keyboard, and gold paperclips that Francesca Varela uses to write environmental fiction

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  • Cedar Rain

    1–2 minutes

    There is a cedar treewho I visit on each hike,and when it rains,the water hangsin its fine-woven branches,as though in a spider web–in small, clear globes,that reflect dark green fog,and licorice fern,and youth-on-age, and my own face, too, and the water running heavy through the creek,and the little brown birds jumping from one branch to

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  • Cloudside

    1–2 minutes

    The clouds cling to the hillside,worn pink-redby the growing storm and the softness of sunset,and behind me the mountain hides beneath the riverin the sharp light of early duskin the clear, swirling air,as the first drops of rain drum and join the water.

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  • Stone Ocean

    1–2 minutes

    I feel the moon behind the skyand I hear the ocean,the click of fish, the soft, curling strings of sunlight caught up in the salt-veils,and I feelthe pulse of waves,smoothed by wind, one by one against the shore, as I float on my back, the moon’s oceanthe dark spots,the mares, the old seasmade of stone.

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  • Iridescence

    1–2 minutes

    Outside my window, a hummingbird speaks. Its voice is the same as the sunset–the same as the tossing of cedar boughs in the southwest breeze. I know it immediately, before I even see it. And when I look up, the hummingbird is hovering–the sun glinting off its feathers, just like the iridescence of an abalone

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Learn more about Francesca Varela's novels