by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
By: Jon Epstein “Baba!” my granddaughter Bailey hollers from the bedroom. “Can you go in?” I ask Kelly. I’d just sat in front of the fireplace with my first Saturday morning cup of coffee and an ice pack on my back. “She called for you,” Kelly defers. I pull up…
by Alena Orrison The cold iron of the unicorn statue, Lying substantially in my hand Creates a glimpse into long ago. Gentle warmth from morning’s sun glow Grandfather’s face smiling and tanned. Just out of my grasp hang firm swollen oranges Reflecting the vibrancy of the sunrise. From a bough…