Our dog telegraphs her every emotion, announcing her moods with a range of vocal cues, facial expressions, and overly-dramatic body language. The cats are usually harder to read.
Usually, but not always. Here, for example, the message is clear: “Don’t bother me, I’m mad at you…”
Publication note: My poem “Waking” appears in the new issue of Willows Wept Review. The issue is available in print (by order) or as a free digital download.
Publication Note: My poem After the Birthday is posted on the poemblog at vox poetica, which is currently running Contributor Series 11: On Birthdays.
Today’s editing efforts deteriorated into a session of self-doubt. After a few sweaty hours of hammering at a lost cause, I forced myself to close the word processing software, turn off the light, and shut the office door tight behind me. Ever have one of those days?
The blue jay eggs hatched sometime within the last week. Driven by feeding duties and protective instincts, the blue jay parents spend every daylight moment foraging and feuding.
When we first noticed their increased activity, my husband put a handful of seed on the deck railing. It quickly disappeared. The next day, he put out a little more seed, then waited with his camera. Now he and the blue jays share a daily ritual of feeding and photos.
The losers in this new relationship are the cats, who usually treasure these spring open-window weeks. Unfortunately, their favorite windows look onto the deck…
It’s been a lovely, lazy day. Instead of doing anything new or productive, I wandered from window to window, lost in memories and daydreams.
Rae Spencer 