Category Archives: The Outdoors

A mouthful of wildflowers a mind full of tea leaves, steeping.   Sun brewed tea lavender and lemon, ice cubes in the swimming pool, the bird’s song pecking, off key and off beat.   An

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Each grey tree a sharpened claw to gouge the sun, every wall of the mountains a brittle and black paycheck.        The bears rendezvous in the dumpster, snouts stuffed in carry-out, and they don’t

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The wind does not speak It listens. The wind can hear every whisper, Every scream. The wind can hear every thought, Every secret. It listens. The wind witnesses every heart-felt memory, Every heartbreak. It sees.

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Above the tree line, it hits just how alone you are. You’ve traveled so far that the forest who once stood tall beside you, offering shelter from the less inviting elements of nature, no longer

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The guy running the “real archeological dig” has me take the Number Nine bus to a non-stop alongside the freeway. He instructs me to tell the driver to pull over at mile-marker six. I wear

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The leaves are just beginning to turn, Yellow, orange, red, brown, A reminder of the infinite cycle of life.   Dew rests cold on the tips of dying grass, Worms wiggle on the wet pavement

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Afraid of the pet-store bird who died. Her sister retrieves the greensogreen Corpse. From her bedroom window perch, she watches her sister bury it, Her father’s shovel from the hook in the garage packs it in.

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Fireflies lit our way as Jim and I rode back from dinner at a biker bar in Williamsport, Maryland, to our damp and buggy campsite, four miles south on the C & O canal trail. 

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When I used to hunt for deer I’d park on a gravel road and hike in a half mile on a rusty railroad track. At a leaning swamp oak I’d veer into the woods and

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The first crisp days of autumn, give them to me: a brisk breeze making you finally reach for a jacket.   Give me the adornment of it: deep orange, rich golds, trees losing their yearly

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