Broken, blackened branches,sculpted by fire –Nova Scotian bonsai. by Lynn Reicker
Outside, the drifting snow accumulates on pine trees reaching toward a goose-grey sky. I watch a solitary Blue Jay fly where fading light at dusk illuminates the tracks a deer […]
Whenever I seemy stonesa three,I pause—to know,to sigh, to be.In all I have done,or not, or failed—in allof this,my three prevailed.My three who workedtheir way to me,to crack the calm,the […]
They’re terrible birds,says my granddad, an old farmer.Eating the crops, making a mess.We always used to shoot themwhen I was a boy. I watch for them,to see them glide and […]
