The Old Apple Tree

  In the school yard, the packed, worn, colourless dirt.  Dust rising from our freedom, ribbons of long grass tangling our ankles, crawling in under the old apple tree. Roots our universe, the branches bent-heavy. Circumference of fallen fruit, alive with the humming of bees. How, for that singular moment, there is nothing else. That…

A Transient Landscape

shaped by swells and surge and storm six thousand years of broken land banked along the ancient moraine. miles of safety and soft, articulated sand the satisfying weight of stone-in-hand swans gliding in over the twisted tamarack nestling in after long flight an endless, rippled blue, a dragonfly briefly alight (it was like this, that…