Oh, The Light
The foggy clouds from the valley have marched up to here. I am inside of them, these clouds that have touched the pine trees and the deeply fallen untracked snow and the weasels darting between the tree trunks and the icicles hanging from the craggy rocks.
If The Sky Turns Green
If I come back and my lights are on, you need to get to the bathrooms quick,” said the Park Ranger. He was talking to us out the window of a twenty-year-old truck, the bed containing an assortment of shovels, rakes, dented buckets, and hay.
