In the days after Valentine’s
I feel something soft about the morning. I can see it in the pastel sky, hear it in the slow wash of tires on the…
Cat, processing, news.
This sixteen-year-old cat I foster spends her first week here under a blanket. She drinks water and sleeps. Processing, it feels like. The loss of…
The Queen suggests…
The first few hours of the year 2020 are dressed with finely sifted snow. No hollering or screeching of tires, just the old trees rumbling…