Autumn in Michigan
Linda Leedy Schneider — My woods are a kaleidoscope of colors. Maple, birch and dogwood are changing their green work clothes, revealing their authentic
Oct 20
Using the Wrong End of the Stick
By Susan H Evans — From bitter experience, I’ve learned that suffering and endurance — bad as they are — can be used for good, used as stepping
Jul 25
If Peace Was A Dancer
By M. L. Lyons — Peace loves the dulcet tones and only sidesteps the goose footed, the overly rigid, but laughs with the flat-footed, the eager, the shy who
May 20
A memory of Whyoma, a memory of hers
By Matthew Anderson — When she was a little girl, my grandmother Whyoma carried in her small hands a dish of water and minnows. The few minnows swam
Apr 26
Well: The Dive She Fears
By Nkosie — If only she should let loose and dive into the well. To swim toward the toll of the wedding bell.
Apr 18
Only Love and Tolerance
By Gail Epps — If only love and tolerance had been stronger over time. Then, like dinosaur flesh, any fear left on these bones would have disappeared
Apr 8
Her Dreams Become Her Truth
By Carissa Kobel — In her dreams, a cradle rocks. Lullabies constantly in her head. She chose to chase a clock. It wasn't important to go to
Feb 12
Time Machines Existed
By Melissa Molina — If only time machines existed so I could go back and speak with my younger self. A lot of sci-fi movies warn of the
Jan 31
“Questions”
By Christina E. Petrides — Did you end up like your dad? Spending evenings staring blankly at a television, nonspeaking at dinner, blending
Jan 11
Microaggressions
By Bruce Morton — It begins with one small rub—nettle, thorn, word. Sensitive, we succumb to slightest of slights heard, conjure defenses
Dec 19, 2024
How They Came
By Thomas Elson — Their first day in group. Most will come bargaining, pleading, “Make me better, but let me keep doing what I’ve been doing
Nov 24, 2024
This night will punish them all
By Vandana Kumar — The music playing in a neighbor's home isn't happy. You wonder what it really is that makes you think it has that weepy
Nov 5, 2024
IF ONLY THERE WERE NO PREDATORS
By John Grey — "That's nature, his father would say, as he put the unfired rifle back in its case. "Fox, coyote, raccoon, they all gotta
Sep 24, 2024
Her Name Was Sarah
By Beth Davies — I tried to write about these events thirty-three years ago, but the words were elusive back then. The hurt too deep, the
Aug 25, 2024
An Embarrassment of Wild Prairie Roses
By Shelly Norris — Gangly, disheveled thickets sprout beneath her east windows, harden and bloom cold springs, thrive arid summers, shed
Jul 14, 2024
Fast walking with a friend through the parking lot of Kfar Nachman Cemetery in Raanana, Israel
By Jennifer Lang — Groves of citrus trees face the already-full-for-an-early-weekday-morning car park. Sorrow has no schedule. Last week,
Apr 24, 2024
A Hoarder’s Cries for Help — in Haiku
By Christopher Lancette — Mountains of junk mail. Free stuff jumps on top the pile. Jail cell walls close in. Metal dumpster clangs.
Mar 16, 2024
When a Bruise Isn’t Just a Bruise
By Ann Kendall — The bruises started when she was three months old — changing her baby feet from sweet, delicious, squishy mounds of pink to
Jan 8, 2024