Eater

Mostly I am an eater. Yes, I knit. Yes, I write, but eating is easy. Although I eat to survive, I write to thrive, and I knit in kinship with my mother and sister. But whereas writing and knitting are works in progress, eating I finish every time.

Round and round

He drives me to work and picks me up every day. The mornings are often silent journeys.

Black creek

The snow glows as it falls. Today it’s soft and thick but sometimes it’s thin and pointy and dry like a skinny man with wispy hair and a trying argument that swirls in circles, stinging me. My dog twirls in circles just before he poops and he clusters all four paws together as though he’s balancing on a ball. Around and around until it comes out. The snow keeps coming, covering it all.