Author: admin

at the farm store big leaf spinach just-picked tomatoes and garlic at the market ricotta and noodles made of split peas busies herself with pots and pans chopping and simmering enough to feed a small army drives to the underpass...

Saturday morning in her wellies skirting puddles wide as lakes hunting wild apples, honey and eggs. Signs of spring – new rhubarb garden plants waiting for homes tomatoes, basil, beans. The baker offers bread, croissants next to...

air a damp blanket hanging overhead in a long line that gets longer by the second, I stand behind a woman holding a toddler, a large-for-his age boy maybe 10 or 11 stands next to his mother with a lid of sweet black curls over...

I just ate a mandarin orange rind cupped on the table pale pith a slip removed my hands clothed in scent I eat from a migration of fruit one hand plucked another packed my own passes bills, coins exchanged many times over I eat...

the moment upon waking before remembering was longer today and gentler somehow perhaps this is what healing feels like   Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes. Her poetry is widely...

Mom died over five years ago only now is the light of her memory beginning to reach me fully across the years from my childhood when she was the bright sun in my tiny solar system kissing away my hurt showing me the world...

we interpret the events of our life to try to make sense I will never understand why you had to go so young it will never make sense to me you had so much more living to do we had so much more loving to...

I live in a brick ranch that I inherited from my parents. French doors in the dining room lead to a mostly neglected garden. I’m not officially an insomniac, but there are nights when I reach for sleep that is beyond my...

My career as a tightrope walker ended one September afternoon when I was a second grader in the 1940s at Reeb Avenue Elementary School. I returned to school grounds after going home for lunch break. None of the playground...

I’ve heard that at the moment of death, Our lives flash before us. If this is so, Let those traumatic and painful moments Pass quickly Be a blur The mind unable to apprehend or recall Let them flash for the briefest nanosecond,...

Deep within the universe A momentary moan, barely a whisper, Hardly noticeable A sudden spasm Begets a pulsating ripple That quickens and divides, Rubs against itself, incensed. Aching, it spreads, inexorably A white-hot surge,...

November leaves have given way To the nakedness of December trees Bare branches sway with sultry charm Amid the swollen air Or claw the bleak grey skies. Those loose limbs dance wildly While battling shrieking gales Of sleet and...