Ivins, Utah roasted under a gnarled sky.
Early summer and the red land roasted. Stripes of red and white sandstone crackled.
Up in Snow Canyon State Park, she stared out across the chasms and wondered why her overtures were rebuffed, why her olive branches dried up and died.
All that time spent thinking. She still couldn’t figure out why they kept talking behind her back and why she allowed them to inflict a pain she couldn’t understand.
A raven circled overhead and the breeze picked up.
