Bill Kimzey

G ulls circle above my living room window in and out of low smoky clouds lording over crows huddled in firs. Snow is coming. In some places ...

It is hard to see the mountain for the forest. This time of year it is easier. After an early snow blackberries and wild roses lay flattened...

A noisy brown ping pong ball jumped up from the trail and velcroed itself to the trunk of a Douglas Fir. It cocked its head to best keep an ...

I looked up to the crow on the power line. There's dignity in silence we thought. Previously, me and crows .

In the morning shower when my brain is clean and fresh, I divert the tumble of my thoughts away from Jack the night my father died. This mem...

Birds erupt outside my hotel window. Cardinal, wren, robin. Yack Yack Yack. All aflutter. Is it about to rain or has Jack returned from nowh...

Jack's tombstone wears the oak's mantel: lichens rust the pink granite; tannins set his name and the chiseled teak pattern in relief...