The Language of Trees

    That time before noon, as we put our tools up, as our thoughts taper off, is a time susceptible to musing the stillness of things:  the orchard, its naked green and gray concrete bodies that never seem to shiver and never seem to consider themselves concerned of the cold; and the sun, in…

The Sound of a Door Closing (Pt. I)

  Just yesterday, though it wasn’t the first time, a parent stopped me on my way out of the school to ask how I was doing.  Had it been the first time, I may have stopped and stayed there to give her a more sincere answer.  I probably wouldn’t have replied with only a curt…