Monthly Archives: February 2008

6°F. A patch of weeds furred with...

6°F. A patch of weeds furred with hoarfrost alerts me to a hole in the yard I didn’t know about: a burrow? An underground spring?

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Keening moans from the hole in the...

Keening moans from the hole in the big walnut tree. Then snarls: a squirrel rockets out, falls to a lower limb. The moans grow louder.

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Fire engines wailing through the gap...

Fire engines wailing through the gap, air horns, the frantic melisma of ambulances. The wind blows snow against my cheek—pinpricks of cold.

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It’s snowing. A pileated woodpecker...

It’s snowing. A pileated woodpecker drums twice in Margaret’s yard: a resonant timpanum. Then sleet: rapid brushes on a taut skin.

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A squirrel chased off the bird feeder...

A squirrel chased off the bird feeder races all the way to the dead elm in my yard, where it sits perfectly still for the next ten minutes.

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Cold, clear, and still. Three dark...

Cold, clear, and still. Three dark silhouettes of deer half-running, half-dancing through the laurel with the sun-flooded powerline beyond.

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After three months of being written...

After three months of being written about daily, the world glimpsed from my porch seems more recondite than ever. Slow diatoms of snow.

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Siren, train whistle, a red-bellied...

Siren, train whistle, a red-bellied woodpecker ululating in the yard. It’s snowing. Squirrel tracks cross the porch in front of my chair.

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Late to rise, I get a faceful of sun...

Late to rise, I get a faceful of sun. Sparkles on the frosted snowpack only inhabit the glare between the shadows, like stars on strike.

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A jeering band of bluejays lands in...

A jeering band of bluejays lands in the locusts. Of human noise, nothing but distant jets. Long fingers of sunlight between the trees.

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