Framed/A Book Review

“You’re Luddites!” my friend from the city accused.  “For farming with horses in this day and age!”

A rooster crowed; the goats grazed on the meadow.  My husband and I had been too absorbed in the work of a small farm to have studied this movement.  “What exactly is a Luddite?” I asked.

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Voting From Abroad

My fingers tremble, my breath rasps.  I flex my thigh muscles and prepare to leap . . . do the long jump . . . go far . . . over the ocean to reconnect with my people, my roots, my dirt.

But first, there’s this little thing called bureaucracy: