the crackle of gravel,
a bend, a simple house.
Big, old trees.
Secure in their restless shadows
a few hens earnestly peck in the yard.
I grieve when the swallows disappear.
Goodbye for now.
before winter’s icy claw
takes me by the throat
and I curse its wasp-like sting
the day I marvel at cougar prints in snow.
an old tree falls silent, giving itself
that I may laze before a warm fire,
books stacked high,
Ranae LaFerney is a writer and editor from Washington State. She makes her home along the Strait of Juan de Fuca—an ideal setting for sparking one’s creative muse and connection to nature. She heads Scarlet Plume LLC, a professional writing firm, and has recently been published in Orion and More Magazine.