A path snakes over
white sand reflecting high sun
become a white glare−
Gnarled black limbs interrupt me
with the darkness of shadows.
Keep reading
PoetryNot Exactly Florence Nightingale by Claire Scott
that’s you not me in the white bed, white board with the name of today’s on-duty nurse: Mahalia Reyes me in my gym clothes and Asics running shoes still pink from exertion…
PoetryForever by Rachel Zempel
growing commotion voices loud, soft, far, and near children excitedly running past; adults casually strolling behind them fresh tracks in the snow where green foliage had been replaced by glistening white crystals…
FictionNight Chill By Suzanne Cottrell
As first-time parents, sleep deprived Matt and Margot were over protective, checking on Lizzy numerous times throughout the night. Even though they had a baby monitor and guardian Golden Retriever, Sherman, they…
NonfictionSmells Like Cookies – Tastes Like Fire by Lianne Kamp
A Childhood Mini-Memoir To me, vanilla is equal parts smell and taste. There are tastes and smells that have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember,…