A Prayer for the Woman at the Door
God, I keep treating my own life as a rough draft—something to get throughon the way to the real thing. I catch my reflection in the store windowand the critique begins.I have apologized for the same three flawsfor twenty years.I keep a quiet list of conditions:I will love myself when I am braver,when I am…
What We Put Away
The leaves begin to move before I can see what moves beneath them. A small disturbance travels through the fallen brown and gold, a determined furrowing, until a squirrel emerges with a black walnut clamped in her jaw. She pauses, then scampers across the yard toward a spot she seems to recognize. I can see…
The Gift in the Stubble
The cornfield stretches across the rolling drumlins like a held breath. From the road, it is all gold now—late-October gold, the color of sunlight that has lingered too long in the stalks. The leaves rustle in a wind that seems to come from nowhere in particular. Sunlight catches every tassel, every dry and whispering blade.…
