September for the Sycamores

    This morning the sycamores are peeling back their bark and revealing a dull white skin.  Above, their iron arms are stretched out with thousands of pallid green and scorched-tip leaves holding on. The foliage is still thick, and I can only see glimpses of the sun from the ground. Little by little, however,…

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….

A Run Down Beuhler’s Hill

        I don’t know where it comes from, that empathic or intutitive connection to the other worlds.  Do witches and seers just happen like an oddity, by chance and without reason within a narrative? I’m not necessarily calling myself a witch, maybe witchy, at times but I have been curious.  My dear…

The Loving Honesty of Heartbreak (in 5 poems)

I won’t act like I know what love is or write so certainly of it.  I know I have, and do often think of it, but so far every grand epiphany reminds me how vast of a concept love is.  I can speak of heartbreak and the beautiful breaking down the parts of ourselves to…

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…