Once my dad taught us how to make stoves from coffee cans. We sat on the cement steps overlooking the back yard on a sunny summer day and strategically cut little doors in our cans with tinsnips. The top of the can where it was rolled over itself in preparation for a lid was always the hardest …
The soft squish of not quite set mud that’s been kissed by last nites frost. It crunches when you first step upon it, the myriad of icy patterns exploding into a thousand shards of light against the morning sun. It shan’t be long until its warmth causes the trail to bleed; oozing and dripping from the roots …
Twelve’ve seen earthrise o’er regolithLooking down upon our lonely soulsto relive the things they’ve seenWith eyes wild and spirits so old Lunar days like coal mines at nightMiners teeth shine from the heavensEd Mitchell spent nine hours in Fra MauroThere weren’t any condos there then It took all we could musterto send those boys to …