This Spring, in addition to bluebirds nesting in one of their boxes, there are two pair of ducks and a pair of sandhill cranes nesting along the ponds out back. I’ve seen the ducks take flight on my walks. The cranes have strategically placed their nest in an area that is now impassable due to…
Category: fauna
dVerse — Poetics — The Migration Habits of Snow Geese
When at last an ache of joint-swelling freeze crosses the line,I shall fly as the snow goose, to warm, moist watery climesthen bow my weary head in grizzled grey grace to the sun.I’ll waddle muck, then float, weightless on duckweed ponds.I’ll enjoy each still dawn and sunset with other snowbirds,creaks drowned with soothing menageries’ rise…
#FF — The Stowaway
PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas She broke off a stem of herself and stowed it away on the ship before it left Yautja Prime. She’d learned about secret hunting trips by the elite on a planet described as lush, green, and full of game. The rumbling landing gear activated her from dormancy and she slipped…
dVerse — Haibun 96 — Eagle-Eyes
Not in the present tense and not experienced by me, but still relevant to the prompt, it is about an event that happened with Bob, my ex-boyfriend, and Chauncey, our Boston Terrier, on our sailboat a few years ago. Bob had buoyed offshore in the inland lake we live near. He noticed a bald…
dVerse — Poetics 435 — The Band, In Concert
It’s the beginning of January and in the middle of the night, when all is still except for the low chatter coming from the latest netflix episode from the latest series. One cat sleeps on my lap and one cat sleeps under my right arm on the couch, warm and dreaming of hunts in…
dVerse — Poetics 432 — Squirrel Hunting in the Mountains
Armed with a Canon’s telefoto,sturdy-soled hikers, and a canteenI march forward, led by sun-crackledcottonwood and half-ground beech.Squirrel hunting in the mountainsmeans tracking under treelines,craning for oak-nestand pine-needled apples.Mid-winter Sol stirs their bellies;groggy they crawl, head first.Aboriginal-headed, the many-pelted,silvered, burnt-oranged, blackedcoat warms me, but wool worksas I trudge white tracks backto build a mighty slide show….
dVerse — 3 little words — The Feeder
She feeds them in a quiet place Where willows droop; they know her face. Her pail with net, cracked corn, sharp spear; Unsensed the trap, fins swim sans fear. Death strung on lace. Her zinnias smile when she returns, Their hungry sway in copper urns, The roses arch with ruby grace In trellised dance; they…
Tao-Talk 