I took a break this morning from writing a humorous novel. The story of a dying man, told to me last week by a member of his community, ironically insisted on being born as this poem.
I live in a region of the country where outdoor recreational activities abound. Last night I overheard a couple of young men standing behind me at an open-air concert discussing their hiking plans for the summer. Not wanting to turn around and stare, I could just imagine two strapping, healthy youths sporting robust backpacks and…Continue Reading “A peak a week”