In search of story


November 8.19

The colors of autumn astound me

a Beethoven’s Ninth for my eyes.

But despite all the many I’ve seen

there is ever the joy of surprise.


Picture the brave if arthritic photographer, dear reader, falling over the furniture trying to get a shot of this little guy without scaring him off. If he’d hold still, the camera wouldn’t focus. If the camera behaved, he flitted away. At great cost to my person and the order (such as it is) in my house, I got him! It doesn’t take much to make me feel like Clyde Beatty.



September 23.19

Little woolly overcoat

inching up my wall,

do you think you’re coming in

to cozy up for fall?

Yes, I know that winter comes

with autumn equinox,

but I can’t accommodate

your hundred shoes and socks.


As if the trees and the stores weren’t reminder enough, come now the woollies to tell us that summer sets and autumn rises. I wish for all of us, dear reader, a season to catch our collective breath in the colors and new air that will come. May the din of the absurd be muffled, if only for a while.



September 5.19

There is yearning

in the looking up.

The unattainable,

marbled with secrets,


The gulls

in swooping arabesque

mock me with their indifference.

But still I reach.

There is that dream —

you know the one? —


I soar,

scared and joyful,

lifted not by wings


(I think)

 by self.



Thanks to photographer S.W. Berg for this beautiful capture.