December 2015

Chewing Gardens by Mary Lide

greenhouse and Kew gardens in London

I chew the collars of my shirts until they’re ragged as my fingernails. This drives my mother crazier than when I used to chew my hair, which tasted like peppermint despite the fact that I did not use peppermint shampoo.

Blue Rider by Lisa Baird

rural ohio road, curve with farm in backgroud

It begins in the dark of day. It begins with the turn of a key, a familiar road. The commute, the commute of years, begins without fanfare, without manifesto.

Abol Bridge by David Young

abol bridge on appalachian trail

“Bobby, it’s me. We hear that you… ran into some difficulty yesterday.” A bit of an understatement, considering he collapsed on the trail and was carried out by a rescue team, but it’s what comes from my mouth.

A Journey Back by Dorothy Hom

pineapple cakes on sale at chinese market

…trays of freshly baked goods—roast pork buns, steamed sponge cakes, buns filled with crème—beckon behind scratched-up glass. I’ve eaten these treats since I was a kid.

Universe by Linda Dunlavy

acrons and acron shells on the ground with twigs

We’re in the forest looking for acorn shells, because they make good bathtubs for the fairies. I have only one daughter, and she thinks a pinecone would be a good hiding place – fairies like to play hide-and-seek.