November Rose
- At November 11, 2011
- By Dian Day
- In Home
0
It bloomed in October, and lasted until today’s torrential rain. It stood on the lawn like a kind of sentinel, watching as we walked, distractedly, to our front door; like a kind of memory, pale and fragile in the autumn sun; like a kind of promise, holding out among the falling brown and curling leaves.
Old Shoe
- At November 09, 2011
- By Dian Day
- In The Big Backyard
- 0
Another artefact, cracked and moss-covered, lies damply beside the brook. There is a iron-mine of rusting garbage in this spot, along with still-recognizable household items much too young to be antiques. I don’t know why our parents and grandparents favoured river banks for dumping. Eventually, they might have thought, it would all just wash away.
Before the Fall
- At November 03, 2011
- By Dian Day
- In The Big Backyard
- 0
They aren’t wild apples; once, this was a field or an orchard, and a human hand planted this tree. Now, alders and hawthorn grow up around it in thickets so I am surprised, when I stumble through here, to see the perfection of this fruit. The tree just keeps on doing its tree job, feeding us, humans or deer or yellowjackets, without prejudice.