Thursday, April 17, 2014



The Hairy Woodpeckers are rat-tat-tatting the poplars. My eyes drink in the steadfast green of the spruce branches, lit as if from within by the morning sun. A small grey moth flickers past my window. Life flutters by--I can never quite catch up with it.

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The mountains held up the sky like pillars, releasing plumes of pebbles, streams and silt as far as my girlish eyes could follow, and w...

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