The Grit of Purpose
The smell of hot asphalt after a summer rain always brings me back to the feeling of being small in a very large place. It is a scent that clings to the back of the throat, metallic and heavy, like the taste of a copper coin held under the…
The Weight of Stillness
There is a specific quality to the light in the hours after a long period of confinement, a thin, pale clarity that seems to strip away the unnecessary. It is not the sharp, aggressive sun of high summer, but a hesitant, filtered brightness…
Ski Trail by Ronnie GloverThe Path Through Silence
I keep a small, silver thimble in my desk drawer, worn smooth by my grandmother’s thumb over decades of mending. It is a hollow thing, yet it feels heavy with the weight of all the seams she pulled tight, all the frayed edges she refused…