If you were an angler, would you long to see the Green River? And you, River, would you teem with rainbow, brown, and cut-throat trout under whipping winds, rain and
My sneakers shuffle softly over the white sand to push against the tepid ocean water. My shins make a soft, swoosh sound, as quiet as the ocean waves. My eyes
Why do birds sing without him in the world?How long will it take for my heart to uncurl? When will the sun and the wind give grief space, and be
Lucille Louise Isensee Yager 1924 – 2020 I am honored to be a member of the Yager family. While each of them is entirely too modest to say, the entire
Mama was born to be a fifties housewife. Dyed blond beehive, red claws, silk heels. Her Cadillac convertible was white with blue interior. Her diamond large. Her watch square. Classic.
It’s time to go to work. I have the keys, my purse, and my iPhone. I took my vitamins and my allergy pill. Text me. Just let me start the
Hear ye. Hear ye. Lend thy earto hear a tale of my man here, more Rubenesque than Roman God, no covering for his top façade. Still, a fine specimen by
The day you bury your last parent – or mother-figure – there is a permanent mark placed in your life’s calendar.
I close 2015 with our very saddest moments – we lost our beloved boy, Blue in September just a few days after they discovered two masses, thought to be cancer
I live for the moment you walk through the door, when each day ends and my newly-married life begins. My husband returns; I belong. Beneath my nose our dinner browns
If I had another chance to laugh
I’d drop the needle on the 78, take a turn on the living room rug
My little white socks step gaily on
DWK – divorced with kids
A small group of men and women in their forties or fifties
We spin between the travel club, the gourmet club and
His little wet hand reached up for my finger; he held on tightly. That finger was his lifeline to the world, thread to the large universe of choice. On his
Alarm clock noise bizzzzzzzzz
It’s 5 AM. I slip quietly out of our bed, tip toe down the hall, put on my lucky fishing shirt.
Ply me with laughter around chocolate mousse, acrobats and wise stories so to know each other well – well enough. Listen and learn about white or yellow. Wrong numbers. Headings
It happened just before my big holiday party, you know, the one where I invite just everyone, even my work friends from Philadelphia come to see my 1855 restored farmhouse
Takahito Suzuki “Talk ah HEE toe Sah ZOO key” Charlotte’s game is basketball, for the young or couch potato. Every house has a net, every house flies a Blue Devil
The morning sun rises in the gap between the bedroom curtains,
sunlight slices across my face.
My mind stirs slowly through the fog of sleep
There seem to be so many socks. they come in black and tan by lots. for fishing is their main event to be smelly, stinky, musty, wet! Their trip is
I drive my German-touring car to Uptown.My car spends the day sheltered in an underground garage.I’m dressed in my long, leather coat trimmed in black foxand black kid gloves lined
I was living outside Lansing where the winters are dark, cold and long. We have a huge football stadium, a great debate team, and well-known parties. A spring day is
My name is Barbara Reese Yager and I’ve known Jackie for 21 years through rescuing dogs.
My pen poises over my mother-in-law’s birthday card. My mind has lost touch. What is the date? I spy it on the calendar, June eleventh. “Dear…” What is her name?
The low-lying cloud lies on my newly, furrowed field. I breathe in the musty Delta bottom. The low-lying cloud lies on my newly, furrowed field. I breathe in the musty Delta bottom. A puff of Spring breeze conjures up my Holly’s spirit
When you see your son, hold him up high, praise the Lord for the miracle of your flesh in another. Let him see the world as fresh and new. Life
What do I say to my Prince of today that a thousand poets haven’t said over a thousand years? Which words string together my surprise at finding you right on
Sandy, this is the moment where your friends have no words, no words that we think will matter to you, or lessen the pain.
My old dog and I walk the tree lined path. The high winter moon hits the highest point making a lacy pattern of shadows. The hard snow glistens on soft
I wake in a morning fog and greet another day.
I feel doom but, don’t know what it is.
Just doom lurking.
My mind darts from side to side,
We lie like spoons under mama’s handmade quilt
He inhales the citrus smell of my shampoo
Our old dogs lie snug in their beds
Dreaming of fields full of rabbits
I heard you laugh today, a big belly laugh from the bottom of your toes. I looked over to the rack of flies and wondered you who sees the difference
The small wood boat slices through the lake
Beads of water fly like diamonds toward my face
I look out towards the tree-lined shore