Incoming Fall
a garden golden-brown where apples pull branches low to paint grass with wasps blackberries darken against vivid green earth turns under my searching spade worms slide deep against coming frost pears hang against my hand ripe soft with scents that wait for...
Read MoreFeatured Works: Week of Nov. 30 (Bright Peace)
Lighthouse by Vivian Irene Starr This week’s issue is dedicated to my mother, Vivian Irene Starr, who died this month. She was a nature lover, was kind to animals, was a talented artist, and loved cooking and gardening. Her name meant “Bright peaceful star.” In “I Try to Forgive Your Absence, Facing the Snake in the Kitchen” by Laurie Klein, the speaker vacillates between compassion and practicality while dealing with pests. “tiny fur snails” is a haiku by Donald Gaither, capturing a natural moment of transition. “Violet Jelly” by Lyn...
Read MoreLate November
one minute, the sun was out, it was fall. Geraniums under a quilt last night, a blotch of red opening. On the front step what looked like lint has small pink claws and feet. Next the sky was the color of lead. Geraniums under a quilt last night like a child you’ve tucked in or a body wrapped in the earth under leaves. In the swirl of sudden snow, what was left of the headless fur blows west Like a child you’ve tucked in whatever was living, a just born squirrel I suppose, hardly a living thing ...
Read MoreViolet Jelly
picking the leaves Monday early in a cool rain huddled in wet sweatshirts. Hours in the grey, knees and fingers numb. Our skin smells of violets while they soak in the red pan overnight till we boil the green. Then the pectin turns them lilac. We pour them into glass, amethyst the sun comes thru on the window after...
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