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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 8, Number 2, June 2014

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Francis Masat
Key West, Florida, USA


Havens

Through an open window I draw a first scent of cold wet earth. Later, crossing a field on my way to town, an old bull stares at me as if to say . . . what? Mom's forecast had been “you’ll need a new snow shovel,” but in the morning sun, a fence post shades a last patch of snow

Finding the “Moving South Sale” I came for, I watch people as much as I peruse the treasures offered at “great discount.” For a moment, the chatter of the bargain hunters lulls enough for me to hear the faint honking of a V of south-bound geese far above. I seem to be the only one looking up and I am captivated once more by so much that’s unexplained.

homeless folks
enter the forest
scent of wood smoke

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