by Marjorie Stelmach
Do you mean to ask me, “Why this lack
of wanderlust, this stark un-risk?”
True, there are more defensible options.
by Barbara Goldberg
It’s hard to think of home without the hawthorn and the scat
of deer and mole. It’s hard to think of fall without the sight
of scurrying squirrels packing nuts into their cheeks, fearing
humans less than winter. . . .
by Victoria Lancelotta
They are sitting in a café on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, not far from the Odéon metro stop, three of them sitting, the wife with her husband, the husband with his mother, not inside the café but at one of the tables on the sidewalk where the prices are exorbitant but the view of the passing crowd is almost enough to counter this.
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