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Chickadee Funeral
299 wordsThe cottonwoods told me that summer would end soon. I was already nostalgic for it, and for other summers that had passed. Dark clouds gathered over the treeline, warmed by the wind, touched by the grassy smell of late-August, as I made my way up the path, and greeted the false-solomon’s-seal, the ocean spray, the…
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The Marshmallow Plant
77 wordsAlthaea grows best in the warm nights of late-July, when the air is still scented with heat, and the sky lingers blue around the edges; when the night creaks with frogsong, and the wind calls softly, coaxing the flower up, like a star from the darkness, its petals veined like birchbark, shaped just like the…
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Sauvie’s Island
144 wordsA piece of a sand dollar in the dark gray riverbed, embedded in pebbles hewn as fine as black pepper. Here on the banks of the Columbia, an hour’s drive from the ocean, the water feels like its own gentle coastline, quiet ripples and a steep drop-off, and seagulls that fluff their feathers in the…
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In the Dream
137 wordsSometimes I think I would rather live in the dream. As they sit by the fire, holding beer cups in their gloved hands, their mouths rippling with laughter, I press my back to the dying warmth, the last glow of sun, bled into rock, and, through the cold air above my sleeping bag, I watch…
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