by Chris Dungey With first light and all through the bitter day, a dandelion lint of snow settles. Each filament gathers dust bunnies loath to press flat those beneath. For the first time in a month, a man stands in a mirror knotting a tie that has no silk-screen Santa monogram or carol button. A neighbor’s dog heralds an approaching…
by Cassie Premo Steele, Ph.D. My earliest writing was done near a window. During my childhood in Minnesota, it was often too snowy to go outside, but my second-floor bedroom window was near a tree, and I sat by that tree like some devotees sit near their guru. As a…
