The return of the cold has saved the last, handkerchief-sized patches of snow. In the east, a silent jet trails the smallest of wakes.
Month: January 2011
The shadow of my head reflected by the window behind me appears on the railing beside my feet. A south wind slams the corncrib door.
Gray sky thin as an eyelid for the sun’s approximate blaze. The distant gargles of an 18-wheeler jake-breaking into town set off the crows.