Cold wind. A white-throated sparrow sings its plaintive, quavering song and falls silent. I sit in the reek of dogshit from my boot.
dogs
Wednesday August 15, 2018
Overcast. I apologize to the flies still gathering where the dog poo had lain, missing their breakfast. A wood pigeon watches from the roof.
Monday July 23, 2018
Cloudless and hot. A magpie and a robin sit in different parts of the elder tree, open-eyed but still. The dog moves to the shade.
Tuesday July 17, 2018
The dog lies panting in the sun. A magpie’s rattle draws my gaze to a tree laden with green apples, just 50 feet away in a stranger’s yard.
Saturday June 30, 2018
The whole garden has acquired an aura of sadness from one bedraggled, discarded dog toy. The sun finds a spiderweb full of fallen petals.
Thursday June 28, 2018
The elder sheds a gray feather. How can such a small tree harbor so many secrets? From a neighborhood dog, the uncanny howl of a wolf.
Wednesday June 27, 2018
Seven snails are spending the day disguised as burls on the mock orange. A feral cat sneaks in atop the wall, but the terrier is on patrol.
Friday June 22, 2018
The dog and her entourage of flies. In the deep shade beside the wall, one clump of myrtle leaves is pure white, like a school of cave fish.
Thursday June 21, 2018
A huge contrail X moves slowly toward the south. The dog sleeps in a patch of sun, deaf to a magpie scolding from the wall.
Tuesday June 12, 2018
Cold, with the faintest shimmer of precipitation. A blackbird’s metallic scold-calls. Across the way, a dog howls to be let inside.