Sliding through soft rain,Steve was off to see his friendsFor Thanksgiving Day Editor: Erynn Crittenden

Emotionally, I’m looking like last year’sfrozen birthday cake –airless, with too many broken candles. I’ve been in the fridge too long.I’m beyond the use-by ...

If you look up toward the sun,you’ll see I’m not the only oneenjoying the sky’s transcending ski run. Not on the grounds’ overcrowded bull ...

I’m a plain-grey old pigeon,just one of our worldwide flock,and under nature’s supervisionwe’re allowed to fly anywhereacross this land’s hostile block.You’ll see us circling ...

I see evening sunbeamsstealing through the sky’s seams —I wonder what it means. Are they the streamsof forgotten cosmic dreamsbreaking freefrom the atmosphere’sholy levees? ...

Spring is not vanishing nor dying,Fresh grass reappears in the mossy ravine;There will always be birds in the sky. Clouds do not stop rolling ...

On the shadowed edgeof the causeway’s secluded tunnel,I see blurry streaksof bespeckled light. Nothing is certain here –not a breath of wind in sight –only ...

Flying with wings at full span,I am the world’s missionary man —delivering hand to hand,without needing to land. I’m carrying the world’s master plan:man-to-man ...

Above the trees’ shadowy view,the midday sky is royal blue,and streaky cirrus clouds from Ulurulook like a court jester’s hairdo. I see the wise ...

I’m following an interrupted flight pathof thick, black, wiry lineswhich crisscross inside my mind,like aerial railroad tracksthat travel for miles and miles —endlessly from ...