On my way to town, I drive past houses where smoke from chimneys curls upward. It’s comforting to watch the updraft. I suddenly recall...

How any poem is created is a mystery to me. How concrete (shape) poems like the three below happen is an even greater mystery. I had...

Rain had fallen for days. Puddles, all over the yard. The days had been dark and cold. I could feel it inside my body. It made me reflect...

4:00 p.m. It’s Friday, December 7th. I’m on time at Curious Craftsman, a shop in Norfork, Arkansas, ready to sign books for four hours....

Saturday morning. Skies are clear. An hour after awakening, my husband shows me the two tall pines we lost in the night. One lays toppled...