Clock’s Ticking

07/18/2020 / Liz H / 7 Comments

Her voice went on and on, whining and cackling and blaming. Peter knew she spoke out of deep unhappiness, a defensive sense of irrelevance to the rest of the world. She deserved some compassion. Continue reading →

RIP Twin Cities

05/29/202005/29/2020 / Liz H / 3 Comments

This gentle giant
Ended by corrupt police
Remember George Floyd.

Hope strained, smoke-stained streets
Shattered hearts, Minnesota
Patience, as we heal.

(This, on top of COVID. And those who gather together–prayers broken by opportunistic anarchists–risk a steeper next wave in the coming weeks.)

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)

Cora’s Fireweed

02/11/201804/21/2018 / Liz H / 6 Comments

September’s last rays paled as velvet breezes whispered of long nights to come. Cora nestled deeper into a warm hollow at cliff’s edge, ignoring the salt sway of the fjord below.