Imagist – Fiction / Poetry / Photography
There is a lot of snow. I shovelled a path to the bird feeders that were caked and weighted down with ice. I cleared them off, refilled them, shook the coldness from my boots at the back door. Having put the canister away, left my boots to drip dry on the vent, rubbed a semblance … Continue reading Just talking about the weather
The first one was a cheap white metal thing. Many of the beads were broken or chipped, the cross itself warped. Yet, in the dying light of late afternoon, the rosary took on a magic glow. The boy couldn’t resist. He picked it up, twirled it around his finger, but after a few seconds he … Continue reading Reliquary
The birds wait patiently for a place at the feeder, but the grackles and starlings swoop in and scare them off into the nearby trees. They hack and fight and bully their way to the seed and suet cylinder. With utter disregard, they peck, pick, gnaw at the bounty, overfilling themselves, never leaving. Then, weak … Continue reading They are scared
Everything is monochromatic this morning, from the grey-white sky to the grey-white snow. The birds have conspired to emphasize this colourlessness. Cardinals and blue jays sing in the distance, unseen, while juncoes and chickadees pick at the black oil sunflower seeds in the feeders. Below, two squirrels wait for scraps – one black, one grey.
R L Raymond 