On my way to town, I drive past houses where smoke from chimneys curls upward. It’s comforting to watch the updraft. I suddenly recall...

How any poem is created is a mystery to me. How concrete (shape) poems like the three below happen is an even greater mystery. I had...

Rain had fallen for days. Puddles, all over the yard. The days had been dark and cold. I could feel it inside my body. It made me reflect...

I am blessed to know a woman with the attitude of gratitude. Her name is Mary Kathryn Marcom. She lives north of San Francisco where...

She was probably in her seventies. Salt-and-pepper hair. Her cart was stalled, and she was looking at vases in an aisle in the Dollar...

My niece, on Christmas break from college, has been visiting for a few days. She has been sick with the crud. I notice how she lets...

It’s ten days before Christmas, coldness has settled its haunches in our valley again, and things are breaking: the gas line that comes...