A wet spring snow clings to everything and coats both ends of the porch, where something very tiny has left an arrow-straight trail of dots.
March 2010
March 2, 2010
A squirrel bounds over the snow with a newly disinterred walnut in its teeth. Behind it in the yard, a neat hole ringed with pieces of husk.
March 1, 2010
The sound of Monday carries on the wind over the ridge. Here, patches of blue, none of them yet coinciding with the sun. A raven croaks.