We learn from history that we do not learn from history.
The sky was cloudless but for a few feathery jet contrails, as I drove west of St. Ignace on US 2 in the gathering dusk. There is a long stretch where the road hugs the Lake Michigan coast, and the whitecaps chase each other to shore for miles and miles. After stopping at a roadside park, I watched as the sun sank into the dark blue waters, leaving only a pink glow at the horizon to recall its passing.
(July, 2012–Tom Schultz)