Moments before he was killed, Daunte Wright called his mother and told her he got pulled over. She had no idea it would be the last time she would speak with her son.

The 20-year-old needed to get insurance information, his mother Katie Wright said.

~ CNN

I hear there is a big rainstorm coming at the end of the week; this is dry April, unusual. I cross the dry mown field to the river, and the landing is muddy as the water level has receded remarkably from the winter snow and melt. This is where Mr. and Mrs. Mallard have been nesting, near this patch of mud. In the morning they hear me approaching and paddle away. I don’t stay out too long, I have a busy day. I manage.a quick revision of the erasure poem I brought to poetry workshop last Thursday because I am having a monthly poetry session with a group of poets, we have named ourselves the Wild Geranium poets after meeting for about a year. And I manage a more complicated revision of a longer poem for Thurs. workshop since I will have no time tomorrow and want to be ready. It’s satisfying, time well spent, and I’m pleased with the changes. I grab another hour for the sunshiney yard, raking and raking and raking. So slowly, I am making my way around the gardens and areas I like to have cleared. Poetry workshop is wonderful; great poems shared, and then an extra long board meeting for the IWWG tonight and now I’m beat. The news out of Minnesota is terrible with this most recent and tragic and outrageous killing of a young black man by police, so near to where the murder of George Floyd took place. Where the Derek Chauvin trial is in the defence phase, and the prosecution’s case continues to be so strong against a weak defence of man’s inhumanity to man, caught in detail on camera for all of us to witness.