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 Linda S. Swanberg I look back upon you (child who made me what I am today) skein of potentiality—unwound thread of redeeming choices how could I have known my journey would be all the longer with no end in sight? nights up alone as a youth, I read by…
by Linda S. Swanberg Fredericksburg, Virginia (1953–1955) For “La” from “Ninna” In memory of Louise Swanberg, M.D. (1949–2014) firefly tips dazzle always out of reach hot breezes own Virginia nights I dream fireflies we mistake for stars all Fredericksburg asleep— town shut up, people gone home wide well of memory ripens…