New Orleans Honeysuckle: Gramma’s Backyard
image courtesy of lakeshorepreserve.wisc.edu Honeysuckle vines spill over the fence, falling like a fountain, cascades of bright green. The white flowers in my grandmother’s backyard look like tiny,...
View ArticleBourbon Street Barefoot
It’s dark and late, so late I don’t even hear the Clydesdales clopping anymore. Ambling down Bourbon Street barefoot, I admire my OPI Red pedicure, although surely it will soon be coated with dirt....
View ArticleMagic & Mystery
Magic, mystery and someone else’s master plan have brought you here. You perch daintily in my lap, delicate as a flower. I will not hurt you. You’ve traveled a long way. You are tired. I will take care...
View ArticleThe Gift of Rain
photo courtesy of Photobucket the pitter-patter of long-awaited raindrops. a slow, soft murmuring sort of morning; everything moving slowly. snuggled in my warm bed with sheets desperately needing to...
View ArticleWhere I’m From–New Orleans
Looking for my Storkie giveaway? CLICK HERE! I found this writing excercise via Galit Breen’s blog, These Little Waves, and she got it from Mama Kat. It’s been on my mind for awhile, but I’ve been...
View ArticleMy Tell-Tale Heart
Looking for my Storkie giveaway? CLICK HERE! This week Galit Breen asked us to conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season- whatever we like. But don’t tell us what it is,...
View ArticleIn the Dark of Night
Today I am linking up with The Lightning & the Lightning-Bug for the prompt, “In the Dark of Night.” ************************************************** I tiptoe in to check on you, five crumpled...
View ArticleThe Death of a Teacher
the phone rings, the school principal calling. she tells me Izzy’s teacher has died. my insides crumple like wilted flowers i choke up and cry ugly tears, wiping snot on my shirt and all i can think is...
View ArticleRelief
a delicate strand of an afternoon– her threads are unraveling, hanging off. she’s thankful for the friend who’s a phone call away. they devour sandwiches, both tired, hungry, worn thin by this day, its...
View ArticleIn My Next Life
in my next life i shall be a midwife, catching slippery babies in my arms each day. holding new life in my hands and watching the purplish faces change to red, the first breaths, the first cries....
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