In the northeast corner of my window a spider knits furiously. A fluttering bird like a blurry ball watches for a second before pecking. The lake is plain and murky, camouflage patterns waving on its skin. The creature swirls and swoops, cutting kerns across the water’s reflection. Any time now he will digest. In a moment, gasping bass will leap.
Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State. His writing appears widely in print and online at such places as PANK Magazine, Anastamoo, The New Flesh and also http://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.
