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 Thomas Griffin Crinkle-leafed prongs of summerphlox poke out of snow amidstwhiskers of seeds on the noseof ragweed shafts crab tree with a few dark rubiesyet to dropporcupine of stripped quincehead snowed under half-the-moon crown tiltstoward black woods rosy waves of clouds backthe fading sun falling behind trees— everything looks…
by Don Mager Sun’s exuberant rush up the sky sweeps off shadows. The polish of fresh light sizzles icy mica flakes on lawns. Exhaling from the Juniper hedge, a tang of morning sweetness wafts across the shivery air. Like a bundled up gnome, a child bobbles up the curb to the hilltop…
by Don Mager The fog presses through the cold swamp of morning and eventually takes on, like an unfamiliar rival, the early afternoon’s occluded light. With its beams aimed low, each car crawls past the other cars like old men on their knees with flashlights quivering as they look for…