Time is the wave washing away beach memories



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A City Moves (Hibbing, MN)

You’ve heard of earthquakes  and landslides, but have you seen  the effects of a mining company?  in northern Minnesota 1919 188 buildings, businesses, and houses  were relocated  2 miles and then some  from their previous locations all because of political affiliations  New sewer, water, and electricity  loaded with manpower and steam  touted down new streets  When what is underneath you  is more valuable than above  people make choices for the families that they love https://www.minnpost.com/mnopedia/2012/10/relocation-hibbing-1919-1921/
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We Released a Sea Turtle Today

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In Memory of Michael Joseph Westergren We released a sea turtle today. It did not hurry. The waves waited. It moved with slow resolve, across sand  that burned underfoot, toward a home  it never stopped carrying inside itself. Not once did it turn back. It breathed the air, as all sea turtles must. Like a promise held  too long, then finally, let go. We watched the tide claim it one breath,  its shape folding into water, as if  it had never been anything else. They say Kemp’s Ridleys nearly disappeared, strangled by nets they couldn’t see, forgotten  by systems they trusted. Still, they returned. Still, they nested. Still, they swam. So did Mike, a man with a heart, opened, twice once by scalpel, once by grief and closed again only after it had poured out everything. He knew the way back: to Corpus, to family, to sand and sky and song. He breathed deeply  when he could, and fiercely when he couldn’t. He wore no armor but a bowtie, spoke plainly, and ju...
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A scary story

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A full moon would have welcomed this night but instead a wee slice hung like a hook in the marcasite sky. The rough road made the car pitch and veer until I slowed to a snails pace. I was never going to the get to the poetry reading on time, who found this great short cut on that stupid map?  Of course, I had, someone who actually owned a paper map of the national forest roads in the county. Mostly logging roads, pitted with deep potholes from skidders and semis. My little Hyundai was doing pretty good so I should have given her more credit that the grief as I beat on the dash when she finally plopped into one of the holes and decided she’d gone far enough.  The tires spun in the mud, I tried to rock’er back and forth to no avail. No poetry reading for me I thought. It was still early, barely 6 but dusk was here and of course as I picked up my cellphone from the passenger side floorboard, I saw the “no service” right away.  Now what, it was at least three miles ...
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