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A Rock in the River by Lydia Nitya Griffith
I would like to be a rock in this river to feel the ever constant movement of wild water and the current’s caress like a love affair for all time. I came down to the rocky banks and let my toes sink into the silky mud and disappear until I was as rooted as the...
The Little Red House, a poem
The station wagon with faux wood paneling, The memory of sliding from the car seat down to the wild grasses, The size I was then, My feet already wincing at the briars and sharp hidden things Waiting for me to step down and run painfully for the river. Summer country...
Stitch Me Together
My language is laughter and lunacy for I see light play and I hear trees whisper to the birds, “Stitch me together in nests of twine and straw.” And the birds trill in response, “Gratitude for your strong arms and lullaby dance on gusted wind.”...