The humming
It was not a night to remember, rather, a night to forget. Late autumn, my German Shepherd and I in a farm cottage on the far reaches…
The black hat
There’s no forgiveness in this scalpel scoring my forehead. I’m a pumpkin shell carefully, firmly sliced open, the sound inside my head like a tearing, a blackbird…
The magpie
What to make of a large magpie slipstreaming my shoulder as I cycled into a combative westerly? Its red-brown eyes flared with curiosity at the awkward knee…
