Autumnal by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer         ...after a line from William Stafford When the leaves are about to yellow and fall ask me then how I tried to hold on to what was green, how I thought...

Sleeping in the Forest   I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed, nothing...

The Sunflowers Come with me into the field of sunflowers. Their faces are burnished disks, their dry spines creak like ship masts, their green leaves, so heavy and many, fill all day with the sticky sugars of the sun. Come...

Thank you Wendell Berry for your beautiful life, poetry, works, compassion, integrity, and love. The Sunday Morning Silence Comes at Last (Sabbaths 2007 XI) The sounds of engines leave the air. The Sunday morning silence comes at last.  At last...

Mesa Verde The earth is salmon-colored here, cracked into plates like the shell of a giant turtle It is a place I've seen in a dream. Our faces tingle with the heat of sun, the fiery way we look at...

Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches of other lives — tried to imagine what the crisp fringes, full of honey, hanging from the branches of the...