pixie cup lichens

watching where i step

blocking the trail

a castleback orbweaver’s latest fly

hot bug summer

ten thousand wave in unison
on a beech twig

ghost pipes

sweating through the longest day of the year​

winter’s end

tentacles of ice
beside the spring

the millipede’s carnival colors

I forget where I am

sun-drenched spring woods

finding a dead leaf
to wipe my brow

I dreamed the angel of death was a bland functionary

who kept giving me forms to fill out.

Every autumn

I’m impressed anew by the sheer inventiveness of death.

The rain comes hammering on the plush roof of the earth.

on the plush roof of the earth. After a while, it opens one by one its mush rooms.

Grown old and grizzled,

you no longer have to wonder whether her scent is meant for you.

Flowers evolved as clickbait for pollinators.

You won’t believe what happened next.