The Farmer and the Fruit

PART I: The Farmer Babushka referred to our farm as “Dom Wschodzącej Śliwki” which translates to “House of the Rising Plum.” I smile at this as I step out of our cottage and into a pastel-colored dawn. My fluttering eyelashes fan damp mist in a soft breeze. Dull shades hover past a fog, above vibrantContinue reading “The Farmer and the Fruit”

Maple Man

northernnorthno worth when compared to this blood orange peeling sky two calves wrapped twice of deer hideand oncecovering the kneessturdy as Corundum hands like aged leathera voice framed in confident humility his grandfather’s birch-barked bucket sighs over the left shoulder with two spiletucked tightly in the pocket of his jean “Tap Tap Tap,” says the young manand from theContinue reading “Maple Man”

Knocking

Through golden hourglass I watch a determinedflickering fumbling bumble bee then attempt a self-soothing mumble“be here now”and note the tension swelling  I till nails into summer’s bookend evethe same fingers that dig into marriageand baby’s thighsand natural family planning until fragile limbs fling ‘round my neckand the smallest little bird starts pulling I think howContinue reading “Knocking”

LIELACS

Lately, on Tuesdays, I start the morning with an early drive along the Chagrin River, winding through county lines before arriving at a small café hidden from typical Chagrin Falls traffic. Before grabbing an espresso beverage, my sister and I chat on the phone interim her two jobs in North Carolina. I then settle intoContinue reading “LIELACS”