Warmth does not come to the peaks as quickly as it does the valley. For though the mountains here remain frozen in winter’s grasp, the basin below my tomb has thawed, and in the valley, flowers bloom. From the summit I watch as thick snow melts and flows into rising streams that feed the invaders’ crops and cattle and greed.
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It was a balmy spring morning and Mr. Robert Washington was trundling down a dirt road in a beaten-up Ford F-Series. Around him, the corn grew tall and lush and the surrounding windbreaks teamed with life. Passerines sang, corvids squawked, crickets chirped, bees hummed, cicadas droned. And then, without warning or reason, they all
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In the chill of the pre-dawn air, the kingdom slept. Sisters huddled close and dreaming, unaware of the coming beast. In the darkness they were sheltered, unworried, ignorant. Until at last, dawn broke. And with it, the tranquility of night gave way to the cacophony of day. Lorikeets squawked and flies buzzed and
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