shall my hardened ears direct
Perhaps the single – no,
repeated – scream of a broad-winged
from view through clutters of barren
branches or the pleasant
chatter of nearby chickadees.
This lump in my throat is my heart crying. These tears that fall silently and then not-so-silently are insufficient motions for an inexpressible grief: One more White Rhino has been slaughtered for its horn made from keratin – the same stuff as my finger nails; another female and her...Read more