Memory of a river
The Slave River, Fort Smith, Northwest Territories And even in the dead of northwest winter, with a silver hush over all the world, the rapids murmur. There are...
Category: hope
Run for Covenant
What I want to say is this: In the face of the bewildering nature of human interaction, there is nothing better than to throw oneself headlong into those relati...
Mortal Hope
We are frail. A puff of breath, too soon extinguished, a gathering of dust, too easily scattered. We wrestle with this mortality in the face of the invisible ar...