by Minerva Rising Contributor | Dec 4, 2015 | The Keeping Room
I cannot imagine wanting to have children, which must be why I never had them. I wonder if that’s the reason I became a writer, if giving birth to stories instead of babies sublimated my maternal urges. There are indisputable similarities between the two...
by Minerva Rising Contributor | Nov 6, 2015 | The Keeping Room
Fall is a fallow rotting scent, fallen leaves made wet by heavy rain, the quieting earth loosened to welcome the dregs for a long winter’s nap. In the city that scent is elusive, the earth wrapped tight in asphalt, cement. What patches remain are...
by Minerva Rising Contributor | Oct 30, 2015 | The Keeping Room
October: A Haiku Story Want is a cold wind. I watch the leaves fly soundless And dream of roots, deep. If I catch a leaf, Pin it close, scarlet, umber, Will I be a tree? Reaching high, sightless, What’s left behind remembered, Wrapped around my feet....
by Minerva Rising Contributor | Oct 2, 2015 | The Keeping Room
I moved to a place where the loudest thing was the waves against the bulkhead, and reveled in the silence. And then I brought in birds, fuzzy and cheeping, tiny and unobtrusive, forgetting everything grows if it lives. It isn’t quiet here anymore. Outraged...
by Minerva Rising Contributor | Sep 25, 2015 | The Keeping Room
Summer is laziness, no routine. This week I even slept until ten. Most mornings I’m in the rooftop hammock with a coffee cup planted securely in the folds of my belly. I look at the infinite sky, at mountains almost as tall as God. Cornfields freshly...
by Minerva Rising Contributor | Sep 18, 2015 | The Keeping Room
The thermometer on my back porch reads 95 or maybe 98 or perhaps even 100. I don’t know as I can’t see the dial from my perch aboard the Ocean Endeavor as the ice-hardened ship eases into a fjord on Canada’s east coast. I’ve escaped the heat and humidity of...
