Why the Mountains?

    Why the longing for mountains? Is it the wanting to be cradled like a child, like the spiritual–and miraculous–creation we are? Is it to both love something as inanimate yet alive as nature, and to realize all of life has the ability to love us back?  Is it because we know, deep in…

Tips for Drying Goldenrod

    Tips for Drying Goldenrod By Karen Guenther-Attea 1. Wake up, Pray 2. Clip your flowers midday after the dew has dried off. On a windy day, I suppose it doesn’t matter. 3. The boughs don’t need to be too tight, oh but that is too tight. Well, maybe it will be okay. 4….

At Home in Snow

      We met north of the city. Outside, the church doors were locked and no wonder, it was a Monday. We both missed morning mass. It was the holidays, December, and this time of year seems to both rekindle and revoke my nostalgia for home. Dad rolled down his window to greet me…

day dream

Wasn’t the dresser just here? And the pictures, had they come off their frames? Glanced to find the windows no longer open, only a dark film stretched where they used to be. Spoke, “wait,” to the hollow room to listen, but only felt a harsh gust rush through under my feet. The wind ran across…

Where Home Will Come to Settle

July 9th, South Creek Trail I’ve been mulling over “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver since the first time in March.  The poem seems to be slowly developing its color and understanding as I allow myself to really feel into how its message applies to my life. The line, “harsh and exciting” has caught my attention…

Clearing, Planting

24 May, 2017 I took a walk through South Creek the other day after visiting my grandfather.  My grandfather’s German Shepard, Elsa, took me fast down the trail, pounding out her excitement paw-after-paw.  Eventually my thoughts caught up to my own body and I pulled to heel Elsa as best as I could.  I could hear…

Listening to the summer

june Wheat straw set between the root and row Where green tomatoes slowly grow, sunbathing, like spoiled children, young still dreaming cherry tree A thousand blooms, a thousand cherries, Offering, in open hands, Wondering, “Who is it I can feed? With only one bee listening?” apple tree Apple tree, who knew you were such an inspiration…

Later Down the Road

Take the road Down to the end of the drive There’ll be an ivy-grown house where I know things keep slow   Where a kitchen settles for eggs and toast, And old news keeps the basement full,   Where the houseplants fill up the windowsills To watch the seasons change, singing mute songs   With…

The Joyhood of Change

Crumbled concrete lots became the playgrounds building tall towers of sticks and rocks my joyhood would be as I toppled these cities as uninhabited as the empty, sprawling suburbs as glee, maybe mania, overtook my spirits as if imitating the crains’ clearing was as if reclaiming something as memories too often demolished as those stories…

Letter to Arij, excerpt

Arij, Is Palestine still in your grips are you managing to keep a hold as it loosening from your fingertips Has your mind been affected by sleep of the hours you stay awake to unfold a package, never knowing what to expect one you’d rather not bother to even inspect, as sometimes oil drips from…