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Blind Spot

Claire Castaneda   Dear Xxx, When I was six and you were ten I told you all I wanted was to fly …

Not Yet

Patricia Foster   It snowed today, subtly blending what’s underneath together again. Even if it won’t last. * It doesn’t seem possible. …

Coda

Debra Rienstra   I’ve played dozens of symphonies over the years, and they’re all exhausting, even for us violists. Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Sibelius, …

Brain Cutting

J. Stephen Nix Her eyes slid over the surface like fields of muddy snow with the bare skeleton branches of winter twisted …

Love-in-a-Mist

Lynn Gordon   Len Kozumplik always stuck to a certain type of old-time English mystery novel—Margery Allingham, Agatha Christie—because the murderer was …

Through the High Grass

John Sibley Williams My mother says fox while gesturing toward an old red wagon abandoned in our yard for decades. A word …