Trees rock and sway. The dead elm has parted with its largest limb, and the oblong scar glows a creamy yellow, like a well-aged cheese.
Month: December 2009
Cold, gray morning. I inventory the remaining spots of green: moss, grass, mountain laurel, pine, a rosette of thistle outlined in frost.
A small band of clear sky in the west, persisting for over an hour, gives the woods and meadow a feverish glow. The sound of the wind.