by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
by Amy Brian Having faith in my socksI leave my shoes scattered somewherein the home’s warm core—underthe tangled feet of the dining room chair, maybe? And step out into the breath of a January eveningto gather in the split timbercontentedly piled by foreseeing stiff and chilled fingersto adorn our front…
by Amy Brian You walk slowly As we go down the road. Mist flicks our cheeks, One thousand tears in the air. Your boots drag against the gravel, Punctuating each step we take. Pebbles scamper, making blissful declarations: Pop, pop, pop. The wind gives us his hello; Its rhythm can…