Issue: 2025

Joseph Anderson came to the farm late in life. A teacher, retired, but not worn out, going blind, but working for his keep. Each day when weather and his knees allowed, he hobbled in hay fields and sheep pasture, piling circles upon circles of stones a … Continue Reading

How lucky I would be if I could stand upon a branch and soak in the blue and greens of a spot of water instead of placed around a table with people who don’t take time to breathe or understand each other? … Continue Reading

It is hard to walk into the VA. President’s face, larger than life and the VA secretaries smiling blandly. The American flag proudly centered. A wall full of pamphlets from every group. Smiling joyful face at the desk, a new one, again, (one face laste … Continue Reading

Naked in a canoe, you emerge blossoming like tawdry April in a town that’s turned its back to the river. The span is iron trestle, riveted to carry freight, all green and rust. Magnolia, dogwood strike out improbably against the wet and dark forgotten … Continue Reading

In old age, parents flutter like moths at the edge of sight. You know they’ll be gone in the morning. They leave a smatter of wing-colored dust, tiny scales that don’t wash off. Are they waving a white flag? Am I? I remember once, I asked my father why … Continue Reading

At night when she can’t fall asleep, she plays a word game she learned from an anxious insomniac friend. Think of a theme. Think of words linked to that theme. Say them to yourself, in alphabetical order. Fruits and vegetables are effective. A, apple. … Continue Reading