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...

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...

Sweater weather. Friday afternoon: I arrive at the Mennonite Fellowship Building located behind the church, beside the creek. Laughter. I...

This one tree is symbolic for many people of the resurrection of the Christ. A cross is in the blossom. It usually blooms in early April,...

All I know to do is wait. Wait, pray, ask for help, and hold these feelings. I messed up on the computer. It means my pictures,...

More than the garden phlox growing rotund heads, more than the display of bright red canna tongues shoving their way upward toward sky,...

Oh my! I think I was handed what I did not ask for, but maybe what I needed. Most of us are aware of tragedy and comedy in Shakespearean...

Crosses. My husband made me a wooden one. It hangs on a wall. I wear a silver one around my neck. I hear people say, “That’s my cross to...

A cloudy sky, but a tiny bit of light seeps through. I want to feel that light, its warmth. I want to stop the car right now, stand in...