All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               Out of nowhere—silence and sky—it appeared in landing by her side.                 Through windowed divide, close and near, she stared at the owl in rest.  She looked into its eyes.  Owl stared back and into hers.  In the silence, they communed as certain spirits can and do—discovered magic of a way.                What was […]

               “What you produce is not always sacred…What is sacred is the time that you spend working on the project, and what that time does to expand your imagination, and what that expanded imagination does to transform your life.                The more lightly you can pass the time, the brighter your existence becomes.”—Elizabeth Gilbert, Big […]

               “…Frodo stood awhile still lost in wonder.  It seemed to him that he had stepped through a high window that looked on a vanished world.  A light was upon it for which his language had no name.  All that he saw was shapely, but the shapes seemed at once clear cut, as if they […]

               In February still, they walked the trail in cedar line, corridor-path between the trees from road to hidden home and lawn amongst the trees that became a place of magic and almost-heaven in hour of evening shade.                He loved to be with her in place, she present and immersed in a love other […]

               It was a dreary day.  Snow was gone, melted in air just above freezing and in mist that one could not call rain but chilled and changed in fine and saturation of the sky.                It was a strange sky in which to find joy; yet, to her, his spirit seemed.                “Why are […]