"If the motion sensor of the night camera were triggered by a near moth..."
"I try to learn the prose of life, but my slavish reproduction of its speech is wooden..."
"Past and future stored away, Under seat and overhead..."
"I tried to ride my Pegasus indoors, twisting and turning, bending over backwards..."
"Rolling from silver-blue, round powdered edges, outside to in, overshadowing hedges..."
"Last night, the winds went wild at war, their gusts and gales made chaos swarm, and then . . . they weren’t there anymore."
He was the last of the great romantic mopes . . .
I thought red-winged blackbirds were rare...
But even the rain, toward dusk, gets tired of it...
Church bells in the distance have a deep-in-the-country overtone and a village charm...