Scandinavian Sausages and Bad Bank Cards “This one’s from Norway,” she says, placing the platter under my nose. “It’s made…
It Really is Just About the Maquillage, I think I loiter around my face each stroke of a cosmetic pencil…
On Digging, a Response to Seamus Heaney As I stoop to pluck a stubborn weed root, I hear the rough…
Holding Her Lamp, I, too, Reveal Heart-Truth --with gratitude to Eva Dűrrenfeld A chance encounter. Curiously turning pages, suddenly shaking,…
walking alone --Salmon River at Three Rocks greet this place aloud hello tender hello is doorway to prayer is doorway …
Son of a Farmer The farm is not completely gone, even if the bricks deny it, and the sidewalks pave…
How We Say Goodbye --for Susan Whearat Your voice on the phone is quick with love and reckoning. I close…
Gone for Good My sister has gone crazy again. It is a place she goes alone. When she is out…