Over the rise to the north a storm cloud rose and boomed its approach warning yesterday morning as I was splitting wood for winter warmth. Normally a delightful sight and sound for me, it triggered an unexpected shiver as dark thoughts of pandemic and violent protests in cities around the world rose to mind. Covering the splitter with a tarp, I hoped rains would fall long enough to thoroughly soak parched ground.
News this morning of teargas and rubber bullets fired at peaceful protestors to clear the way for a pugnacious president's churchyard photoshoot triggered another shiver as dark thoughts of pandemic and violent protests in cities around the world rose to mind again. Covering my face with a palm, I fervently hoped to live long enough to vote this fall.
Stepping outside to continue splitting firewood, a police siren wails along a highway miles downslope then stops . . . followed by a single gunshot . . . then nothing but birds singing.