A recollection of rain in green fingertips tulip bulbs testing the air nudging tiny conical hills in flowerbeds, the swollen creek surges into the last steelhead run the rising Umpqua remembering spring. I cannot attest the season as anamnesis, that begs an old question does the earth have a soul? Let’s say, for our sake, it […]


To be there, pull back the veil of spring I am a fool to want that, it comes on its own Like the weather, unmindful of urging The thaw in the peaks, the spill of the river. It all happens for the first and last time Azaleas, forsythia from the bowels of earth Lighting the […]