Blueberry Picking, 1972Not the berries at first but the bright smellof pine needles warm in the afternoon.Sun awake in the blue, late-summer sky.A crackling Southern drawl, an elderlygrandmother announcing plans to makejam. Slant light seeping through thick aspens.The first blueberry pings the pail’semptiness, begins the slow filling up.Smooth skin steeped in deep purple.Grandchildren, pails full,... Continue Reading →

White trunks of birches flashin the quick sun and shadow woods.At the top of a rise, a lightning-splitelm and fallen fence. Behind,an overgrown lane of ancient maples,lopsided and burly, leaves stainedwith autumn. Beyond, a barn collapsedin a spiral of timbers and twisted roof.A faded farmhouse stares ahead,dead-windowed and empty.In the yard a homemade hay wagon,two... Continue Reading →