“A Tongue to Cry to Thee” by Sarah Safsten

I.  The mountains were parched, their summer thirst unquenched by shallow stores of snowpack. The reservoirs were dangerously low. Each day, the sky (and my nose) filled with smoke that blew in from California forest fires, stubbornly coated the bowl of Utah Valley, and obscured the mountains behind my house. I griped on the way […] To access this post, you must purchase Subscription – Digital, or Subscription – Print + Digital, United States.