Tag Archives: Jim Brosnan

The Daily Telegram

Searching for items in the Saturday online edition, I come across the social pages with portraits of recent brides. I immediately recognize your gaze, the way you often held your chin on your left hand staring back at me, those … Continue reading

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Trespassing in Topeka

Endless rows of corn and wheat wave in unison as June gusts gently bend endless acres of young grain, as expansive as an ocean’s stretch to the horizon. A straight ribbon of asphalt crisscrosses the Kansas plains. At seventy we … Continue reading

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Spellbound

Fifty-five miles from Rapid City, I listen intently to November skies, sense a hint of precipitation when a flock of sparrows prepare for flight over a nearby field— rich with milkweed. My memory returns to that evening when the moon … Continue reading

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And What If I Didn’t

hear the raindrops cascading on the café’s sloping metal roof, watch shifting constellations meander in shrinking light, study cloud formations drifting east without intent, stare at snow-drizzled mountain peaks on a moonless night, listen to Tchaikovsky symphonies holding you. I … Continue reading

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Near Stone Hill Winery

We witness the downstream destruction of the Missouri as it overflowed its banks when we follow the Hermann Wine Trail, eighty miles west of St. Louis where submerged vineyards harbor mature hardwoods which reflect their lonely images on a flooded … Continue reading

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From the Book of Whispers

On the interstate west of Cheyenne, just fifty miles from Laramie, my Jeep cruises past herders driving sheep and Angus cattle, past ranchers in ten-gallon hats rounding up cows and calves on short grass prairies, past bison grazing in darkening … Continue reading

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Southwest to Reno

I think about you when I stop in the parking lot at the Winnemucca Casino where I want to engage the one-armed bandits, but instead watch a hitchhiker balancing a ragged backpack as he traces the shoulder along State Route … Continue reading

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Set to Sad Music

I gaze through clouded windows on the California Zephyr, twenty minutes after departing St. Louis, the arc of a trestle emerging in the soft charcoal of dusk, the moon rising before the sky swallows these open spaces. I remember that … Continue reading

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