Thursday, April 09, 2009


Digital Photo/Collage by S. Auberle

This is the month of Broken Snowshoe Moon--among other names--according to the Anishnaabe (Chippewa, Ojibwe tribes), and in my personal language--Most Glorious Returning Birds Moon. One last mound of old snow lies in my lane, but tulips are rising up and up. The postmistress is smiling again, the baker in his coffeeshop inventing a new spring tartine. The restaurant goats are thinking of returning to their roof, where they will once again cause innumerable traffic jams by tourists, and our local baker/sailor/poet is peddling his good bread. I'm considering raking the garden, selling a book or two, or washing winter from my windows, till I come to my senses and realize the absolute necessity of watching the grass grow...


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