Morning swells like a leaven as I follow my hunger

The mist of morning shreds in streams Revealing hints of sky...

I can hold it, cup its six pounds in my hands, feel its rough, hard mass and trace the hewn path

your plum-rounded face and your plum- darkened pupils, soft

The midsummer dawn has barely opened its dreamy eyes. One river flows peacefully between reed and pebble under the weight of a blanket...

Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost;

By Birdie Marie Rodriguez She sailed away on the feathers of a heavenly thing that broke me. Selah. There is a wonder in the sorrow of...

By Ahrend Torrey Had you slept-in this quiet Monday,       you wouldn’t have heard it. Had you gone to the grocery,       you wouldn’t...

By Lynn Glicklich Cohen A doctor’s waiting room—where everyone who came in after you is called first—is a fine place to inspect the...

by Rochelle Jewel Shapiro I want you, my husband, in your nursing-home bed, no longer able to breathe while you chew, sustained on...

by Rochelle Jewel Shapiro Hurricane Donna, September 1960 When the sea meets the bay, water bursts like a bomb over docks, breaks the...

By Mark Watney Behold! How gladly22 it is    how goodly23 it is when two brothers    build together an earth-dwelling24    a hobbit-hole...

by Lynn Glicklich Cohen To be deft means unleashing shackles of technique into a swarm of skill, pure abandonment of steps; you lift off...

by Linda Mills Woolsey “Can I put the dollar in for you?” she asks. Her dark eyes shine like molasses in sunlight, her scraped-back hair...

by Linda Mills Woolsey For months we’ve been stirring and stirring strange thoughts, awash in a sea of angers, watching ideas swirl,...

by Mary Beth Hines The girl who lives next door watches the quiet backlit drama unfold from beneath the willow tree in Alonzo’s backyard....

by Matthew Miller Your silence is a gift. A sand partridge quivering and whistling. We furnish the path for ourselves, for now, giving...

by Johanna Caton The buck stood at the border of dark forest and meadow, looking toward the open space. Even a prodigy of evil big as a...

by Susan Francino Rather weighed down by tone-deaf singing, the record of my own dead prayer, I emerge from the church —first to leave,...

by Laurie Klein Overnight, new toadstools shoulder through sodden grass the way sorrows emerge, one after another. Traveler, in a season...