Author Archives: jonwolston

The garbage truck pulls up outside. The week begins in earnest.

Big pharma made me misspell Niagara.

Moonshine and silence. A black line of mergansers reconnoiters us, wild and ennobling, before they leave these parts and the loons cry out. I got lost off Nantucket once says Doug. Thirty miles off, headed right into the Atlantic. So … Continue reading →

As I stepped dripping from the drink, I chanced to spy a startled mink. I stood astride his customed path and set ablaze his short-haired wrath. He swaggered off to look me over. I caught him peering through the clover. … Continue reading →

Through the trees– the pink cliffs of Mount Percival, still hazy at seven, Phoebe’s goslings gone. Silence in all its splendor, shattered by the gulls.

Siberia sounds good and cold on a day when eggs I’m told bake on the sidewalk. Irkutsk beckons from afar on a day when cars and tar resemble ovens.

Across the long bay a bird swims through the blue air, winging its way north. The leaves move again after two days in the nineties.

The lake is high the water deep. Of all the strands this one I’ll keep. The dogs float past where I once strode and telegraph a special code: The day is bright, the evening long. It’s safe to leap so … Continue reading →

Throngs of light charge through the alley calling the hydrangeas This way! This way!

Pulling dandelions after dark you run a risk in Central Park.