Bill Kimzey

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...

I came here a lot with Jack after he died. Now I’m back for the wood thrush I suppose, and the gnats and mosquitoes. I take my time along th...

Around 4am, maybe earlier, I hear God. Noah. Noah it’s going to rain. Build an ark. Build it big enough to hold your animals so your herds a...