Cherry Picking
Two cherries, dimpled and cleft, bright red, in a wishbone hanging. Pick them, pick them not. Transfixing beauty of a 1920s Italian aperitif ad, lovers joined over a cool summer Campari. But most are lonely, single, ripe, waiting. Pick the low ones first, they are easy. The proud ones, mature crimson, at the top of the tree, leave for the blue jays who only come one at a time and don’t take much. Passion...
Read MorePossibilities
In the first parallel universe I took my father’s advice studied pharmacy at the University of Buffalo moved to New Jersey to work for Pfizer and have lived here ever since. In another one Sister Emiliette managed to convince me during the eighth grade retreat. Now I awaken each morning at six, put on the white and black, go down to chapel, take my place at the organ. In May I’ll make my final vows. In the next I came of age amid the lilacs of Christ Church Meadow watching the spring regatta. After one year of walks among the domes and spires I decided to stay. ...
Read MoreDreaming Crow
Black branches spread above me, etched into evening blue. The winter tree is leafless and gnarled, yet it reaches, stretching up into an endless ache of sky. Limbs explode into feathers, as crows take flight. Black as the tree, they break from the branches, scattering its silhouette beyond my vision. For a moment I am breathless, full of wonder, caught in the mystery. The phone rings, and I stir toward waking. Panic stabs through me as I surface. I recoil. No! Don’t make me come back here. It hurts too much. I feel torn open, hollowed out. Please, just let me sleep… let me...
Read MoreThe Last Saturday Matinee
The weather was perfect on that Saturday morning. It had rained off and on the night before, and now everything was damp and fresh and somehow renewed. I was excited nearly beyond control because my big brother, Stephen, was home on leave from the United States Army after completing basic training at Fort Benning, Georgia. He would leave the following week to fly half way around the world to fight in Vietnam, a conflict I didn’t understand at the time and perhaps still don’t. The year was 1968 and I was just ten years old. Back then, I was more concerned about riding my...
Read MoreAfter the Magic
On the courthouse lawn stood two gleaming statues of golden stone, a man and woman holding hands, smiling at each other. Both stood on no base but their own feet and possessed such detail it seemed they might stroll off. Before them, a mother and little girl stood bathed in twilight; the mother turned to an elderly man on a metal bench alone. “We’ve been admiring the statues.” She lifted her hands. “So life-like…” He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his bald head. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” The little girl looked from the statues...
Read MoreQuiet River
The air was still the day he crossed the flowing border of the town. The air was still, and the sun leaned on this side of the river as his hiking boots rang the dull timbers of the bridge. The gnats and mosquitoes held their convention along the length of the river and shore, and they swarmed a halo around the stranger, but, I declare, not a one touched down on his dusty ball cap, nor lay tiny feet upon the sweat of the man’s face. He came with company that day; a dog the color of dried clay trotted at his side, looking neither right nor left, and moving as a dog...
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