The nine-millimeter sandals are designed to keep one grounded by means of a copper plug, which makes regular contact with the earth, and a single continuous conductive lace, which hugs the foot and keeps the sandal snugly and comfortably in place for a near barefoot experience — ideal for this morning’s three-mile climb on the Perimeter Trail to Rackett Ridge and the subsequent scamper down again. The most strenuous part […]
Four miles of dusty trails, with side trips down to what is now a very low-running stream. No clouds, no fog, no mist, no smoke. Far off, on the other side of the canyon, the great echoing voice of a raven. The talk now is of rain, and the patience of ferns. Bare feet. Thirty-nine degrees. Even in drought, we outlive our own death. September 16, 2021 . [ 1229 […]
Another nuthatch visit. This time, while I was filling the birdbath, one came down from the birch tree and landed on the edge, within two feet of where I was standing. Was the drink it took meant to satisfy it, or me? Both — and the water itself. There is no such thing as a foreign language in this musical world. September 9, 2021 . [ 1224 ]
the house sleeps better / during cricket time — and then / a breeze stirs the vine August 29, 2021 . Night Walk In my absent presence, a cricket singing here, here, here, as if the way were clear, clear, clear. Recently Banned Literature, October 28, 2017 . [ 1213 ]
Because they are friends summer leaves the door open and night wanders in Recently Banned Literature, May 29, 2008 . [ 1212 ]
In this sea of beauty, why cling to the wreckage of my ignorance? August 19, 2021 . [ 1205 ]
So much like our children — this bumblebee spent the night in a flower. August 18, 2021 . [ 1204 ]
Pen and claw — old friends scratching out their autobiographies. August 15, 2021 . You Are Here As intimate as you are with yourself as imagined by others, imagine imagining yourself as you are, when imagination itself imagines changing course — that is, imagine a river, imagining an ocean, imagining an imagined star — as intimate, as you imagine, you are. Somewhere, there is a familiar old coat on a […]
Hot days. Warm nights. Mosquito bites. Ripe grapes. Dry lakes. Somewhere, love, it rains. A red sun. A rooster dawn. I should have known. Sorry that I told you. August 14, 2021 . [ 1199 ]
Dewlight and starry grass — a soft blue mist, as far as the toes can see. August 10, 2021 . [ 1194 ]
