By: Ruth Deming She curves like the crescent moon tiny blossoms with Roman noses of deep character, serious flowers who know the importance of every single day, to treat well your brethren, bow before them, pass them food when they’re…

By: Michael C. Keith “If I had the choice between staring at a ceiling for eternity or the breathless nothingness of death, which would I choose? Is that what you’re asking me?” “Exactly,” answered Beth. “It’s a simple enough question,…

By: Pamela Riley I remember the color of your eyes that day we drove to Calvary and how you said my smile could murder the moon. Everything I did that summer was for you – the shells rattling in old cans…