Missing, Presumed DeadThe mountain fell. Ice. No resistance.Canyon floor far below.What would the wives know?Crampon, piton, stance.The cloud bellowed. RopeGrew tight. Afternoon fadedInto night....

POEM ENDING WITH A NESTLING CRADLED IN MY HUSBAND’S LARGE HAND Because of the time difference I waketo a text from my husband, sent the...

Lost Summers of my Youth The sweetness of summer, falling from trees /ripe / soft / luscious dreams of forever.We were the ones who begged...

Calliope Teaches Me How to Write It’s dusk, and these hallowed groundsare motionless and silentOrange radiates from the horizon,and the oak trees loom like shadowsof...

Little Creatures The teacher who looked ancientto her circle of first gradersleaned forward and explained that the typical lightning bugwas simply the twinklein an angel’s eye,...

Inner Compass Golden shovel from David Whyte’s poem “Sweet Darkness”“…anyone or anything that does not bring you alive it too small for you.” It could rain...

Crossword Clue, 5 Down, and a Hint: “Love” Isn’t the Answer I said it first,Come over here, and help me out,<!-- pointing to the only line...

Middle Path, Kenyon College I didn’t know which ones werenasturtiums until after the warmSeptember afternoon I spottedtheir round leaves with orange and yellowflowers on the...

Which is to say, I miss you Today everyone looks familiarunder the yellow ocher, autumn light. This woman with the child.That older man resting on a...