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Heritage
82 wordsWhen I was a child, my grandmother gifted mea small replica of the stone used to grind corn into masa,and I have it on my kitchen shelf, even now, next to my mortar and pestle.At my parent’s house, there’s a big one, a real one, the name for which I have been told by so…
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Sun Smoke
43 wordsThe maples and horse-chestnuts soften, their casted shadowstorn from the sun,cracked open by golden smoke,the sun painted,not long ago, like a strange, eclipsed moon, or the eye of some god,too fierce to look upon from our small earth.
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Wildfire
52 wordsWhite dark and a hummingbird pressed into juniper,a ghost-god,wings unseen,and, hours later,a hawk, tail stripes larger than a planet’s rings,and, at dusk, a family of robinsbathed in the pink mottle,their sun kept in a drawer and cotton ball muffled,and a batflying above them.
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Siouxon Creek
230 wordsLast night we camped by a waterfall. Even at midnight you could see it, a pale blue ribbon laced between moon-painted firs. All night we heard its gentle pouring, which by morning had become as smooth to our ears as the lap of the sea. Around the fire, we told stories about the beginning. How…
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