Sunday Morning In January

Sunday Morning In January

Predawn freezing fog blankets the canyon. My rooster is arguing religion with the neighbor’s bird. Occasionally some cock down the road will offer his ill considered opinion, only to be sternly rebuffed by an owl who has been struggling to remain aloof from the...
Damp

Damp

Damp The clouds have come right down to the ground, enveloping me It is not raining, but I can feel the water particles brushing against my skin with their cold, damp...
Fog

Fog

The fog moved through the trees and we moved through the fog. It was as impenetrable as a wall, as ephemeral as a ghost( a thought half formed? a memory not quite recalled?). We were boxed in; at times we could only see one hundred feet, sometimes we could see one...