To My New Synchronizing Pacemaker

Machine, the oddest things still appeal– like the tick of my old truck’s engine when I shut it off and pause at the wheel to think what I’ll say inside– or do.  Then the chirp on snow of my boot soles, lamplight indoors, the…

The Pontoon Problem

One autumn night, I went to a 12-step meeting at the local prison. I hope my presence is of some use at a place like that. I’ve spent no real time in jail, not even a whole night, just some metaphorical spanking for civil rights or anti-war…

Slow Drive at Evening

Through my car’s open window and their plate glass, I see the elderly couple who own the store. They’re in argument, or at least in disagreement about something... A little way north, Black Angus lie down in the pasture beside the…

The Things That Remain

Last night, a foot and a half of snow veiled the predominantly drab ground of the winter, another dire reminder of climate change. Snow or not, though, I can’t account for something I witnessed this morning: I noticed a honeybee caught between…

Sunday Noons

Having bought a Sunday paper, I stood sipping coffee in our village store, absently staring through the plate glass window onto the street.  I was conscious of the affable buzz of my neighbors’ palaver all around me. I couldn’t catch specifics…

Disappearances

Rapt, an old man inspects his living room mirror but not for his image. Instead, its angle subtly reflects the light of a stub of candle on the silent piano. He might say the reflection shimmers but the years, though blessed, have…