My Forecast

by John Grey Snow falls on snow.  And, in between,  I trudge.    Yes it’s beautiful  but it chills my bones.  It decorates.  It beautifies.  But my fingers freeze  despite my gloves.    I am on my way  to a place   that will offer me  radiance and discomfort  in equal abundance.    The weather forecaster   got… Continue reading My Forecast

Reclaimed

by John Grey Firs and hemlocks reclaim this land for forest.  An old rusted train track doesn’t deter them.  The last echo of a whistle died eighty years ago.  Same with the buzzing of the saws.    Logged out, replanted, throw in a few  alders, cedars, many years worth of rain,   and the woods rejuvenate in dampened… Continue reading Reclaimed

The Small World

by John Grey It’s blanched white tunnels that tube-worms dig, swirling around in complex patterns like the trail of a child’s finger in cake frosting. Or the emerald gleam of glowworms. Or tiny scarlet and blue-jeweled crabs. The world offers small as much as it does large. A lizard stares up at me from beneath… Continue reading The Small World