This old house creaks with proud reticence. She’s shabby and elegant, admitting the light graciously, housing us admirably.
The light’s morning slant catches stone, asphalt, wrought iron, wood, glass. The streets and buildings uplift, becoming…
Dim gray sky, promising rain. Between the spires of the university, bus brakes squeal.
The coffee house buzz is half caffeine, half new school-year activity. Dark coffee with swirls of cream seems the simplest thing here.
The lushness of a late summer afternoon turns to an autumn chill in the evening. The few crickets outside the window sing a melancholy song.
Shadow and light turn the yard into a living skin, like a leopard in green and yellow. The suburban jungle, indeed.
The sparrows’ wings, backlit, flash like blades over the fields. A redtail hawk floats toward the ridge, then circles back.