Pale mares’ tails
a buttermilk sky
clabbered, pearly and pied, loppered in clouds
The bait station, it’s a raccoon dream come true. Works like a charm. Gets them used to coming around for the free stuff. Gets them on a schedule. Gets them used to reaching in for the payoff. A little cat food inside an old tire and in no time they have a routine you can count on.
in pale thrums, Virgins’ Bower
flounce, tuft, tassel, and fringe
It’s crazy. The cuff. They never see it coming. And they all look so surprised when they can’t get away.
Jeff Streeby is a Pushcart Prize nominee and a nominee for Best of the Web. His haibun “El Paso: July” was selected by Robert Olen Butler for inclusion in The Best Small Fictions 2015 from Queen’s Ferry Press. He is Associate Editor of the multimedia journal OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters.