by Anne Mikusinski Life is a pie chartShade it three quarters darkDue to waitingFor newsOr answersOr reasons whyBut keep that one fourth brightFor momentsKept in memory.
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Strike One
by Martha Phelan Hayes It’s the summer of 1989, and I am thirty-five years old. My son is twelve. He just finished his all-star baseball season. I worried (I am a young mother who’s yet to learn the futility of such angst) that he wouldn’t make this highly competitive team….