All my thoughts need correction, For before, in my meekness, My own so-thought perfection Always became my weakness. I found in my defiance Anxieties each hour In my misplaced reliance. Instead, I need
Pencils scratch and scribble Like dozens of mice scurrying Across a table— The teacher paces purposefully, Watching her pupils’ work, Waiting for the lightbulb— That spark of comprehension. Patient as a farmer watching
Lord! The battle goes on, And the end is far from near; Duty is harsh, and pleasures are dear! The days are so dark that the night’s a relief. Please, hear me,
Life will not be crushed. I feel it rippling beneath pavement, tree roots forging cracks in blacktop, carving a washboard under my wheels, rattling my very bones as I ride. On my left
“Mommy, Mommy!” Anne ran out the front door crying, blonde strands of hair sprouting like dandelion pappi from her once tightly woven pigtail braids. Tiny fists wiped away the tears from her crystal
Frank didn’t say a word on the drive back from the doctor’s office. From the corner of his eye, he watched Francie stare silently out the window as the houses and
On the screened-in porch of the red cottage, we all slid back our empty plates and waited for the thunderstorm to pass over Lake Pushaw, Maine. By the dock, the sailboat my grandpa
The gravel crunched underneath my feet rhythmically as I trudged one step farther with my toddlers. Aadvik, Anaira, and Adhrit held each other’s hands, three dark-skinned forces of nature dragging me along
“When I’m in nature, that’s god to me!” The man looks at me and grins widely, displaying teeth a hygienist would envy. A river breeze ripples through his long, wavy brown