If Hope is the Thing with Feathers
If hope is the thing with feathers, then hope is also the thing with a beak. The thing with claws. Hope is the thing with hooves, too....
My Third Walk
My Third Walk begins in the wind, the path slightly muddy from the rain that fell as this storm began and now from the snow melting once...
Reading the Signs
It is late October in Southern Utah. Lingering summer temperatures have confused the trees, their leaves still green, not gold nor brown...
Archives
In her book, Rivermouth: A Chronicle of Language, Faith, and Migration , Alejandra Oliva recounts the week she volunteered at the...
The Book Club
On Thursday night, two days after the election, I walked through security at the newly built Utah State Penitentiary that sits on the...
Why Feathers?
They’re smaller than a breadbox but bigger than a beauty quark. Some are fluffed, some hooked, some slick as black-ice road. Some hide so...
From the tree top
I climb into a bare-dead desert tree before sunrise and get out binoculars and a journal. The ground is frozen, sky clear, patches of...
Of Manuscripts and Meetings
On election day, I took my dogs on a walk and finished listening to the audiobook Parable of the Sower  by Olivia Butler. This dystopian...
Scythians
A long time ago, before Genghis Khan, there were women, on horses, known loosely as Scythians. They rode in small nomadic clans, and rode...
I will stay if you will stay.
A shooting star fell outside my bedroom window the other night. It was dark and cold with no moon, a white diamond, falling fast toward...