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While I still remember, the color of the snow before me while behind me on the high ridge, fire sings through the dry timber at dawn, driving us down to the river. Read the rest of this entry »

It so happens I’m sick of being a man if this is what it means. I won’t be home today or at the office either. I’ve been summoned and nothing else matters. Permit me to narrate. Read the rest of this entry »

I look out over these rows of eager faces turned toward me with self-assurance, not one brow wrinkled, eyes bright with confidence in the rosy dawn of tomorrow’s inexhaustible sun and it reminds me of a joke. Read the rest of this entry »

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The pen name David B Dale honors my parents Beatrice and Dale. David+B+Dale = davidbdale

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