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Tag Archives: Jim Brosnan
I maneuver windy roads bound for the Rockies, heavy cloud banks lifting slowly with morning mist, what’s left of darkness mingles with first light, appears in a raspberry sunrise, quietness intertwined in the tangled silence of towering aspen. Dr. Jim … Continue reading
Streaks of light seep across dark interstate lanes bordering endless miles of cornfields on an evening that seems to last forever under a starless sky as I travel south two hundred miles to Wichita where the wind blows from the … Continue reading
I linger in the morning chill after dreamless sleep, survey untilled fields near the Comfort Suites, before breakfast, watch morning traffic, before recalling a dream decades ago when you were more than a memory, when we walked hand-in-hand on a … Continue reading
Arching rainbows leaves few traces minutes after the storm ends as I drive past acres of corn rows, observe a dozen orange-winged blackbirds on a post and rail fence—images found in storybooks about the Midwest. Before eleven, I listen to … Continue reading
On early morning walks, I meander through rolling fields of tall grass, clumps still whispering after last night’s storm, the meadow still damp in first light when I suddenly can’t remember the lyrics of that unfinished song, when I just … Continue reading
I struggle to remember last week’s dreams— withered fields of dried up wildflowers where no one hears our footsteps crossing Iowa meadows under indigo skies, a red-winged blackbird, the only witness to our intrusion. Jim Brosnan’s publishing credits include Nameless … Continue reading
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
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
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
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
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
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
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