The early morning sun hurled bright golden spears of light through the branches of the heavy oak, beneath which Joel knelt on the brown grass still wet and cold with dew. He studied the map sketched on a scrap of brown paper he held in his hand, glanced at the tree trunk, and nodded at the eggshaped stone half sunken in the earth before him...
"Footprints in Cement,"
Sketch: Vol. 43
, Article 1.
Available at: https://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol43/iss3/1