inside an apple there was a worm- small & pale & blind, with one purpose: to wait. when the jaws of opportunity opened – inside it slipped. it did not speak in words; it just uncoiled in the mind and began to *nudge*. “look,” the nudge said without saying, “see what you are. see what ...

How can I loveIn a world full of hate? How can I growWhen I’m crushed by the weight? How can I learnWhen ignorance is bliss? How can I succeedWhen jobs are remiss? How can I governWhen politics are a joke? How can I speakWhen my words always choke? How can I thriveIn this world that ...

It climbs from the east. Those beams that signal a new day and the promise of a fresh start. That offers the chance to shed the past, like dry, unwanted skin flaking away in the wind. That brings renewed optimism and the possibility of favorable terms. And I sigh I wait under my covers and ...

I choose to believe  that there is more to life than heartache and grief. I have endured much hardship. Still, I wake to watch the sun rise above the mountain peak. I feel the salt of the ocean waves, catch the scent of something sweet, then let the soft flavors melt on my tongue. I ...

Nature’s ponds--small catchmentsin the concrete path,deep enoughto hold shimmering puddles:nature’s watery mirrors. Reflectionsof a worldjust beyondthe mind’s eye line-a mirage that persists,without resistance. Editor: Erynn Crittenden

I hear words about when and where,But is the answer out there?  Words without guidelines, A sign of the times, Between the landminesAnd the fallen pines. Abruptly, they barge through, Abhorrently, they destroy you. Absent is their compassion, Abstract is their abnegation. Despite our cumbersome ways, The sun rises over the bay And graciously resurrects our day. Oh, please show me the ...

Sometimes, I want to be a balloon. To be as buoyant as it seems while dancing across the sky above. No anxieties about the future, and no mistakes from the past locking it in place, trapping it with chains made of utter anguish. Balloons never have to worry about how they look, what others think ...

I hear her whistle in the wind. Her hum: a sweet melody that carries, that soothes, that calms the rising pain in my chest, that quenches the loneliness—partially. I feel her presence within these walls. Within the tastefully matched curtains, that brightens and refreshes those gloomy days and lures in hopefulness. Mama, The woman who ...

NowWalking before crawlingTalking without thinkingSwimming and sinkingRunning but not finishingClimbing without ascending ThenFalling through the horizonDisappearing into oblivion Editor: Erynn Crittenden

O, downtrodden soul, weep no more. You have a curious mind, a need to touch and see to believe what is right in front of you. But they spit on your face and kick you to the ground. You wonder what it is that you did wrong, as everyone you know looks at you with ...