Joshua Heston

Night falls with the rain but the light in the room is warm and dim, the music moody, calming after an exhausting week. The sound of a baseball game echoes lowly. The dogs are making comfortable noises from rug and couch. As I sit at the kitchen table to write, again, the mind wanders. “I have an idea,” Dustin Burkett is saying. His earnestness is contagious, his talent inspiring. We are sitting at another kitchen table, cold winter light streaming, conversing about the StateoftheOzarks...

It is best not to estimate the countless gallons of coffee I’ve drunk in, say, the last 35 years, but just the same, I know it’s a lot.

Yellow sun and yellow willow catkins sway after the spring thunderstorm. Afternoon sun lights silver rivulets beneath. A burly bumblebee crawls over thick pollen, engrossed in something akin to happiness. Springtime is here in the middle of America, just as it has been uncountable times over. The willows are new and young and ready once more. The silver clouds are wings in the south night sky, clouds barely visible even as the rain clears, even as the rain wings eastward again, as it always...