Good Friday by Kathleen McKitty Harris
My Irish Catholic grandmother—no slouch herself to rosary beads and the Stations of the Cross—had a friend, Wilma, who was far more pious than she. So pious in fact, that she refused to answer the telephone, eat, cook, read the pay-puh or turn on the TV on Good Friday between the hours of 12 and 3 pm. Instead, she knelt in her living room and prayed during the Three Hours’ Agony—the hours of Christ’s crucifixion and death on the cross. Don’t get me wrong. My grandmother was all for a a solemn Catholic ritual, … Continue reading Good Friday by Kathleen McKitty Harris
Rush Hour Angels by Rosanne Trost
A few years ago, I was driving home from work, encountering typical rush hour traffic. At a red light, the car radio went dead. The light turned green. I hit the accelerator, and then the realization—my car won’t start. I am a nurse, and have been involved in many medical emergencies. The sight of blood captures my attention, but I know what to do. I can react and provide the necessary assistance in crisis situations. When it is required, I exude calmness, But any car issue, big or small, is an emergency that causes me … Continue reading Rush Hour Angels by Rosanne Trost
Deconstructing Unicorns and Mermaids by Deborah M. Prum
My four-year-old granddaughter, “Zoe”, lives out-of-state. We often meet via Zoom. She and I share a screen and explore her burning questions by searching YouTube videos. Last Saturday morning, Zoe wanted to know: Do unicorns exist? Are mermaids real? We discovered that unicorn sightings might have been skinny rhinoceros or possibly rare Italian one-horned deer. We also learned that mermaids likely were manatees basking on boulders and the wishful thinking of sailors who had been at sea too long. This news didn’t crush the child. A week later, though, when I asked what she wanted … Continue reading Deconstructing Unicorns and Mermaids by Deborah M. Prum
Lake George in My Heart by David Stern
My wife and I sought sanctuary by the lake, our two sons in tow. The four-hour car trip was nonstop requests for candy, cookies, sodas laced with anticipation, halted mid-sentence by the lake’s incantation: the first glimpse of cool, limpid waters and a sweeping lawn of conifers. We sailed among lake islands, swam alongside fish, dove for seashells among undulating stems of pondweed. One son claimed Lake George looked just like last year, emboldened as he sailed a Sunfish, while the younger insisted it was different every day. This was before we returned with his … Continue reading Lake George in My Heart by David Stern
Visitatio Divina by Sharon Perkins Ackerman
It is just after 5:00 a.m. as I browse among the books that prop up my life. I say prop because books are so often a means of leaving my surroundings, tuning out, turning off. I say prop, but more accurately, they are the existential nail on which I hang my time and effort. Poetry, mostly—Ron Rash, Ted Kooser, Wendell Berry, Kari Gunter-Seymour. Mountain words, plains words, red clay words, river words. Places where I am utterly myself and utterly absent in this fading night whose silence is suddenly shattered by the rattling of a … Continue reading Visitatio Divina by Sharon Perkins Ackerman
Shopping by Paul Joseph Enea
My grocery store is under siege by sleepwalkers who show up in pajamas moping from shelf to shelf for a precious memory. There is no one to guide them. Disposable employees are with- drawn or unhinged; I saw a clerk slap a senior shoplifter to the floor. The butcher who knew your name had a gentle funeral. St. Rita’s warm quiet bells called the old neighborhood together. Almost everyone wore their best. I watched it online in a suit & tie. Deli-lovers from bygone eras filled the pews with greetings & non-greetings. Neighbor-strangers are faux-blind. … Continue reading Shopping by Paul Joseph Enea
Adrienne by Lisa Ben-Shoshan
She is a large woman. In another place or circumstance, she would have been the woman in the flowery housedress with fluffy mules on her feet. She would have been the lady you always seem to get stuck next to on the bus when it is hot and crowded and everyone has to hold onto the strap. She would have been the one with the smelly armpits. But she fits no clichés. She has money from sources unknown. She has a style so cosmopolitan it makes your teeth hurt. She’s always waving. Hello. Bye-bye. … Continue reading Adrienne by Lisa Ben-Shoshan
Harvester by Ned Kraft
Once mown a tedder spreads the murdered crop to dry, draws a swath, a windrow waiting. Three days of drought and the hay is fit to bind. Catch and stack. Catch and stack. Breathing diesel, dung, and latent threat, a shirtless boy, fourteen, the mud of field dust and sweat, scratched by each bail’s blades… until you’ve built a plinth above the wagon’s rim to stand atop — prince of something. Stand there rut-bouncing ‘till with one lethal bump, your hay mountain shakes you off. You hit the ground and roll to meet the … Continue reading Harvester by Ned Kraft
Sefunmi Adeola’s Focus on African Subjects
Nigerian artist Sefunmi Adeola puts his sharp eyes to work as a photographer, illustrator and textile designer focusing on his African people. “I became interested in photography around 2014/2015,” says Adeola. “At the beginning, I was very interested in street photography and abstract street photography. I studied the works of artists I admired, looking at the tone, color, themes, and image-making. “I was utterly fascinated by the black and white images of artists like Ralph Gibson, and Rotimi Fani-Kayode as well as Sunmi Smart-Cole, Robert Frank, Robert Capa, Annie Leibovitz, and Diane Arbus.” Adeola prefers … Continue reading Sefunmi Adeola’s Focus on African Subjects
Living by Water by Martha Graham Wiseman
Once I lived in a house by a river, in a deep narrow valley. The house was dark and damp, the river enticing. A broad lawn, anchored by an ancient white pine, sloped down to the water. Often, I sat by the water and wept. The sun sank early behind the mountains. The river sank into a running darkness. Every spring, I watched the ducks—mallards, mergansers—slide along the water with a wake of ducklings. I counted the little handfuls of fluff each day, delighted when they lined up along a fallen log, equally delighted when … Continue reading Living by Water by Martha Graham Wiseman