by J. Caleb Thomas For as long as I can remember, Mother rang a silver bell every morning at six. It was small enough to fit in her palm but loud enough to wake the dead. Even when she was bedridden and pale with fever, she kept it on the…
by J. Caleb Thomas For as long as I can remember, Mother rang a silver bell every morning at six. It was small enough to fit in her palm but loud enough to wake the dead. Even when she was bedridden and pale with fever, she kept it on the…
by Joseph V. Kleponis I Two monarch butterflies, Four orange, red and black wings, Violate tiny wild violets. II Two towheaded boys, Toy pistols in hand, Charge down the hillside. III Two milkweed seeds, Crazy lost snowflakes, Bend tips of blades of grass. IV Two…