David Colodney

    Pleasant Valley Sunday She’s a breeze beyond my white fence pastel-colored kite tailing behind, a blur of pinks & peaches & as she & her mom pass: we wave like neighbors who don’t know each other’s names. This little girl is six, maybe seven,...

Laura Strickland

      The Anniversary Every February I remember. I have it marked in my diary and sometimes I take annual leave but that’s not to say I don’t remember at other times – like when a song comes on or I’m buying magazines in the Co op and I’m back in...

Nick Browne

      The single woman’s toolbox It began with a claw hammer, for removing lingering doubt and to bludgeon home the point that Yes, I know my own mind and No is my final answer. I don’t need to ask a friend. The pliers came soon after, along with the...

Penny Blackburn

    When the Saints Came We waited for them to heal us. Took them gifts of honey, a rabbit-skin bag. Showed them how to till and plant crops with foresight. How to sweeten bitter leaves by boiling. We helped them quarry rock, carve the blocks, stack them fit...

John Tustin

      A Chapel in the Woods There is a chapel in the woods. We should have been married there. The vines and the growth overcoming the building Except for the doors that would open to welcome us. There is a cabin in the woods. We should have lived there...

Sally St Clair

      ‘Once Upon a May Day Morning, a Father Takes His Three Daughters on a Greenline Bus Deep Into the Green Rolling Countryside of Kent.’ He packs a picnic, hard boiled eggs with the shell still on to protect them, tomatoes, crisps, ham...