I buried a peacock this morning at dawn. The sun was rising over the Sandia Mountains and the nearly full moon, just past Winter Solstice, was setting in the western sky. It hung over the west mesa like a pale ghost. The peacock’s iridescent feathers glistened and gleamed in radiant jeweled tones as I positioned […]

Read More Fine Feathered Friends (A Christmastime Story), by Wes Brittenham