missing
that rusty bucket
Category: forest
spring fling
one look back and we’ve both
grown old
question mark butterfly
my shadow
taking the shot
happy
or apprehensive
old black birch
spring migration
caravans
of sandstone
where the sun
don’t shine
porcupine
if I can’t dance
it’s not my revolution
winter trees
the shock of recognition
ant gallery
Brush Mountain
the upward mobility
of water
ice-bound forest
the raven’s
circling croak
skinned alive
by a porcupine
sweet birch
hoarfrost
my breath freezing
to my beard
