A man steps out through the gap in the old barn doors.
Riders wave from the cars of a Ferris wheel painted green and yellow.The sun, the fog and one tall tree. There is a sound that only silence makes.
A row of shoreline houses doubles itself in the glassy water at dusk.
A white house sits by the dark water, snow on the banks and clouds overhead.An old sedan sleeps under drifting snow, its chrome the only thing the storm hasn't claimed.
Fallen leaves carpet the ground between two old trees, the mausoleum waiting beyond.
Three trees stand in the snow as the world goes white around them.A wine glass holds the whole shoreline upside down. One cannot reflect the beauty around them unless they have seen their beauty within.
Snowy riverfront homes line up along the bank, their reflections trembling below.
A line of floats makes a V across the dark water.Geese settle on the evening water, a power plant's stack on the far shore.
Kids squeal on the spinning teacups, one pair of blue glasses bravely holding on.
Wisps of cloud streak the blue over a snowy harbor in Westport.Marsh grass bends in the low light at the water's edge.
Upturned boats wait out the winter on the sand beside the boatyard.
Heavy rope coils around a weathered piling above the water, in black and white.Through a stone archway, the cove opens up in green and blue.
A bare tree catches the sunrise in Darien, light breaking through its branches.
The shore goes still at dusk, trees and sky mirrored in the flat water.Water spills over a fallen leaf and shatters into droplets.
A houseplant leans toward the window as snow falls behind the screen.
A green barn door set deep in old brick, a dusting of snow at its foot.Marsh grass frames a stone bridge and a quiet house across the cove.
Looking up through a canopy of yellow and green.
The sun blazes over the Sound beside a lone tree on the rocks.A small wooded island sits alone on the calm water.
A boardwalk of wet planks leads into the autumn woods.
Snow blankets the stone house and the bridge beside the still water.A fishing boat and a line of birds on a honeyed horizon.
Bright green marsh grass rings a tidal pool at the water's edge.
A tall trunk leans up into a crown of gold.A storm cloud towers over the flats as the tide goes out.
A plant keeps its place in the window while the snow piles up outside.
A plastic chair stands ankle deep in the flooded lawn, the water still as glass.Houses and bare trees line the cove, all of it doubled in the evening water.
A bench waits on a snow-covered beach, gulls wheeling over the frozen shore.
A lone tree stands against the sun as the morning fog burns off the field.Snow frosts every branch around the house across the water.
Mist hangs between the hills as the river lies perfectly still.
Dock pilings stand in the water as the sunset clouds spread across it.Gulls lift off the golden sand as the sun drops behind the pier.
A stone lighthouse rises above the trees, doubled in the still pond.
Snow piles high on the old car's hood, its grille still grinning through.Bare trees and snowy roofs stand on their reflections in the river.
Power towers and an old railroad bridge span the river in the evening light.
Pampas grass bends in the winter wind, frosted gold.Across the river marsh, a bridge and a tower stand against the setting sun.
Looking up through spring leaves, the sun burning through the branches.
A dark stream winds through the snowy woods.The sun peers through a hole in the snow-laden pine. I am still here.
A red leaf floats on the water, trailing its stem like a tail.
Sun spills through the tall trees onto a forest floor of fallen leaves. Autumn reminds us that there is beauty in the breakdown.A faded SLOW sign on a block wall beneath rusted siding, taking its own advice.
The salt marsh goes amber in the last light.
A lighthouse stands out on the Sound as a boat trawls past it.The shore goes violet as night falls on the water.
