Home » cho 18.2 Table of Contents » Kristen Lindquist, Visitation

Kristen Lindquist

Visitation

Everyone’s working from home these days except me, paying bills alone in my second-floor office, radio on for company. As the afternoon light hits the window from a lower angle, I suddenly become aware of a spotty pattern of smudges on the upper pane, which, when I inspect them more closely, coalesce into a set of distinct muddy paw prints with four tiny toes on each foot. The window is at least twenty feet up. Perhaps a flying squirrel launched from the nearby woods to rebound off the glass. Even a grey squirrel could have scaled the house siding as easily as climbing a tree. I look up from my computer more frequently now, especially in the early dusk of these shorter days, half-expecting to see a pair of bright eyes looking in at me.

passing satellite
who we are when we think
we're alone

About the Author

Kristen Lindquist

Kristen Lindquist is a poet, writer, and naturalist in Camden, Maine. She has published two collections of poetry and maintains a daily haiku blog at kristenlindquist.com/blog.

Leave a Comment