by Tim Girvin | Aug 28, 2005 | Writings
For 10 years, I’d watched him; there’s been a white and black plumed Kingfisher, living in front of me; living: loud and large. Literally: in front, the cackling, chattering calls usually beginning early, ending late. I’d see him on a branch, hanging...
by Tim Girvin | Aug 21, 2005 | Writings
I’m looking out to nothing, in the far hours before dawn. And I hear the huffing of three otters, swimming. I can see, by moonlight, their triangles of passage in the water rippling, in triad. Off there, hearing another: hooting in strokes of three. Hoo hoo hoo...
