By: K. A. Williams Don’t Stay Indoors In The Springtime Squirrels run down oak trees and siton their haunches munching acorns.Fearlessly, a mockingbird darts inamong them to snatch a big grasshopper.Butterflies of many colors flutterhere and there with the breeze.Hummingbirds…
By: William Teets Man, listen. You can petition the Lord with prayer, but that’s not going to change anything. And deep inside Joey knows that, even if she doesn’t admit it. She is well-aware her prayers, sparking votive candles, isn’t…
By Hayden Sidun My dear Margaret, Too much time has passed since you departed this world. I’m writing to you to apologize. I only wish you understood the kind of stress I was under to make ends meet. I was…
By: Amrita Valan Himadri squeezed out a cup of lemon juice. Carefully crushing two tablespoons of fennel to a fine soft powder. When the chicken had finished cooking in its own juices, to a delectable golden-brown, he sprinkled the spice…
By: Nathan Leslie He’s that weird kid. He’s that kid who smells like moss. He’s that kid who dangles chicken necks off the dock for hours at a time. Nobody knows that kid. Why wouldn’t you want to mingle with…
By: Edith Gallagher Boyd After my friends left, I peeked into Sophie’s room while she lay sleeping. Megan had baked chocolate cupcakes for her and I noticed a streak of chocolate on Sophie’s cheek. My heart clenched with fierce…
By: Don Tassone Ben had fought in a “forever war” for 20 years when the US finally pulled out. He had passed up nearly two dozen chances to end his tour and go home. Not that he cared for…
By: John E Caulton Jed rides the bike down the hill. The breeze freshens his face. His jacket and trousers flap like bunting in the slipstream. As he speeds down the gradient his eyes moisten and small tears flick behind…
By: Sheila Henry Slavery was abolished in America almost 200 years agobut the system refuses to relinquish a sad historybinding young black men as they remain preyand are locked up in a system to perform free laborblue mood cops the…
By: Moulay Cherif CHEBIHI HASSANI It rains on the sheets of the half-opened notebookLaying there before you, now useless,When inspiration, in infertile tears,pours its solitude into your heart in winter… From the edge of the inkwell a feather fliesAnd the…