June 2022

Writing on the porch for a while, I am confronted, every time I look up, by three bracken fronds in my yard that have already turned yellow, like needlessly complex skeletons of fish.

Insects drift back and forth in the cool air (45F/7C). An animal track through the dew-drenched yard heads straight under the house.

Cloudy and cool. I’m still mulling over yesterday’s funeral. From the back of the house, the dull thumps of a towhee attacking its reflection.

A front blew in overnight and now it’s gorgeous and cool. Strong sunlight infiltrates the forest. The common bird calls sound symphonic.