Our sparrows did not return this year. Their little brown house is empty and still. Only the wind shakes it now. Last year at this time they were busy caring for their young. She, flying off to find food, and he, standing guard outside, darting off when she returned. I wonder about them, the generations … More Change
His rhythmic strikes,and dawn’s harsh glarearrive at once,a shrill alarm. Relentlessly,he hammers,plumbs,exposing crumbsof wood and grubs. His point is clear: how sharp of himto make it so precisely, at facade’s expense. ©2020 All Rights Reserved
The question is not being, if or to, but rather when and what or why and where and how. If one does this instead of that, results may shift by threads, or swelling clouds of snow. But time, as lord of all, crafts here and now at whim. And what of this is relevant? What … More Common Ground
