At the Palms of Surrender
at the palms of surrender Blue ships disappear there swallowed by a red sun mouth closing around them in prayer. It’s grit your teeth time on the mountain—the season of no light and perma-snow. Even though the calendar says the light is returning–as does my good friend Tyler who first counts, then reports, the minutes on Facebook like announcing salvation–the 20ish minutes we’ve gained since the Solstice is not enough for me. Mornings, I…