Elizabeth Dodd

                    history on the lawn, all morning long— the forecast called for showers, then, throughout the afternoon, gusty wind. Yet already half-past one, the sun remains its amber autumn self, my laundry's drying on the [...]

                    wind is the language of this morning, as I'm climbing Me-a-pa-te, "hill that is hard to go around," high above surrounding grasslands, badlands. White-throated swallows in midmorning heat loop and chitter over [...]

Dry creekbeds littered with buckeyes, fallen leaves, geodes—those stones you wrap your hands around like ancient tools, hold firm against a stronger rock and strike until the round splits open, spilling dust and bits of crystal.           [...]