Hope Is a Verb

On Planting a Tree Water and a pickaxe. Sun beating down. One by one the rocks come out, only to reveal another and more. Body aches from breaking rock and shoveling dirt. Joints complain from arthritis and heat. Why? I ask, wiping off sweat. Story says there was a tree nearby, before the oil men …

Read more

An Evil Remembered

 [While writing an earlier post about volcanoes and tasting ash, a memory flashed of another time and place where I tasted the grit of ash, and my mind wouldn’t let go. I wrote this before I learned that January 27, 2020 was the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. While this is simply my …

Read more