Primordial Longing by Michael Connery

The darkness is absolute. The lava tube is cavernous, cathedral in its size and wondrous in its natural phenomenon. I descended the ladder of tumbled volcanic rock into these depths. Ahead of and behind me, where the tube is open on either end to the world above, light penetrates like a benevolent hand reaching down... Continue Reading →

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Southwest Heart by Michael Connery

Red dust coats my worn and battered hiking boots. Where I expected wind, there is only breathless stillness; where I expected elation, there is serenity. This monumental chasm seems at first to be a gaping wound gouged with a serrated knife into the chest of the southwest. But as I descend this narrow, steep trail,... Continue Reading →

Bridge by Michael Connery

I climb along the craggy vertebrae of the continent. The trail is steep, switching back on itself as I ascend the ridge. The sun gleams winter-bright, though the air is warming as morning approaches midday. These rocky buttresses holding up the sky have a prehistoric air, and I can almost imagine myself lost in time.... Continue Reading →

The Tattered Cover by Michael Connery

There are countless stories here. The perfume of paper, glue, and wood permeates each alcove. The wooden floorboards creak underfoot, welcoming the weight and wander of those browsing the shelves. The light is warm and soft, all noise hushed. For this is a sanctuary, a haven for the thinkers and readers and wonderers, a second... Continue Reading →

A Snow-Laden Hush by Michael Connery

The woods are silent with a snow-laden hush, the only sound the whisper of my cross country skis slicing through the foot of pristine powder that fell overnight. The lodgepole pines stand as svelte sentinels in the forest, clothed in green needles with a cloak of white. The stream I ski alongside is frozen solid... Continue Reading →

Home by Michael Connery

My home is an old one with character and a charm I see more clearly when she is caped in white. The house tends to creak and groan in the winter, the hardwood floors chill underfoot, the floorboard heaters popping and clanking. This morning was cold and still, laden and muffled with the night's snowfall... Continue Reading →

East Lake by Michael Connery

East Lake Creek Trail ​This trail is a popular one, but today it is quiet. The sun is high overhead, golden and warm as I pause on the ridge. The silence here is bated, as if the forest holds its breath and watches me. I continue along the path. It leads me down into a... Continue Reading →

Verde Canyon by Michael Connery

There’s a sense of otherworldliness here, a sense of time suspended and set adrift over an untouched land. Untouched save for the iron sutures upon which I sail in this steaming locomotive. The rhythmic rumble of the train on the tracks is as captivating as the land over which we pass. The chill desert air... Continue Reading →

Garden of the Gods by Michael Connery

Garden of the Gods The trail I follow is of hard-packed red dirt, rolling with the landscape, and the vegetation marks the transition between the high desert and the Rockies. Between the plains and the mountains, there’s a garden of rock. This is a garden not of delicacy or symmetry, but one of towering spires,... Continue Reading →

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