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Ancient mounds whisper their secrets which we, perhaps, can only know with our hearts. From the edges of steep slopes, along river bluffs, and resting in dense prairies, they appear again and again. We are in awe as we are lured to their mysteries. We lose ourselves In their conical, linear and animal shapes and hunger for the truth resting in their silence.

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When Megg’s Eggs called me at Tammy’s Piggly Wiggly, I had to respond.

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A girl’s hand rests delicately on the ground.

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 Aiken, my sweet old dog, is gone.

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The sun hit the trees, casting long shadows across the land.

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The thud of a robin crashing into one of my windows broke the sweet mid-morning peace.

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The sign said “Free Stuff.”

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David “Chick” Rubel felt the thoroughbred beneath him as the air rushed by them both on the 5/8 mile exercise run where he once trained racehorses.

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Spring had, at last, officially arrived.

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Amanda Kevern celebrates her belly. 

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My mother used to sew our clothing when we were very small.

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Farming is born in you, I like to imagine.

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