My husband drove the church van. I went along, opened van doors, and listened to children who were returning to church. A big step for...

It’s Memorial Day weekend. Words can be read on marquees in front of businesses to remind us to not forget those who fought and died for...

A yard sale could be defined as an informal event for the sale of used goods. It usually happens in someone’s yard. No dress code. It can...

This Traveling Memorial came to Mountain Home, Arkansas, several years ago. My husband and I went to the designated location. What can I...

I wrote this a few days before Mother's Day. My birthday falls in the month of May, but it never upstages Mother's Day. Never has, never...

The hospital parking lot in our small town is filled with the wailing of a fire engine, ambulance, police siren. You can imagine. The...

Happy to share my poem “Bar of Soap” with you! It’s a prose poem, and it landed in the first edition of inScribe: Journal of Creative...

I am fond of things with feathers. So fond of them that I feed them, listen to them, watch them. And happily, I am not alone in this...

I’m seeing bright scarves of white flowers hanging on trees. It has a bridal appearance—to me, it looks like scarf upon scarf of white...

Oh, my friend. Do you know that it’s possible to be so full that you know, for sure, that your words don’t matter much? I thought my...