Bigfoot

by Richard LeBlond The day had been scheduled for cold air out of Canada, a lousy way to start up June. But by the time we had gathered at the parking lot near ...

Rabbit in the Garden

by Karen Terrey When I opened my hand I didn’t feel anything which isn’t to say nothing was there. A rabbit reaps my garden – at least, I planted it – nip...

Outsider

by Amlanjyoti Goswami fishes squibble, wiggle at droppings nibble at goings on, squabble big fish, small fish still fish in the closed pond one fish dreams of o...

After the Bear

by Matt Stansberry We are always hunting something of our father’s, and he’s hunting too, and we’re sure we’ll know more of ourselves if we can get to him. R...

The Snakecatcher 

by Karen Jane Cannon In Sussex fields we saw the wooden sign — red letters warning us of adders hid under tall nettles, long cow parsley, but we never saw a tel...

Highland Bestiary

by Joan Lennon In the fog, sheep strike _____poses, misty round the edges, __________strangely heroic. Sleeping otter dreams _____of water. If streams could dre...