Beside the rosette of mullein leaves like thumbless felt mittens beaded with rainwater, the feral cat pauses to yowl.
Plummer’s Hollow
4/13/2009
White sky, weak sun, a hollow knocking from the quarry. A winter wren holds forth below the old corrall, rambling, introspective.
4/12/2009
A ray of sun penetrating the lilac illuminates the two daffodils at the base of its hind legs, and the dog statue stands on yellow stars.
4/11/2009
4/10/2009
4/9/2009
4/8/2009
4/7/2009
4/6/2009
First light. A rabbit in the yard vanishes when it stops moving. Over the rain, I can just make out the soft, fey notes of a hermit thrush.
4/5/2009
Twelve cowbirds in the sunlit crown of a walnut tree take turns with their single, liquid syllable, the blue sky gurgling in every ditch.
4/4/2009
Every time the wind dies, I hear the steady ticking of a chipmunk. A rift opens in the clouds just wide enough for half the sun.
4/3/2009
A warm east wind. Curtains of rain on the almost-open buds of red maple, pussy willow, daffodils, and lilac leaves like green bishop’s hats.
4/2/2009
4/1/2009
Buds swell on the ornamental cherry beside the porch, unaware that porcupines have girdled the trunk. April Fool! You’re dead.