It’s not unusual to feel still air rush over your cheeks and past your ears. It’s you moving forward in a bold waltz rhythm that’s less domesticated than dance. It’s perfectly normal to release the earth and be held by intention and hoof beats and a lesser degree of gravity than what roots docile … Read more
Walking the Dog There was a message on my phone. My dog was ready to come home, they said. It was just her ashes, they didn’t say. Never one to be put on a shelf, we took one last walk together around the farm, her cremains, I guess, tucked under my arm. She usually bounds … Read more
By request. Thanks, everyone. Loss The sun leaves just the sky behind, a watery arch over the prairie, and my feet cling to the ground unwilling to let loose of this day for its beauty and possibility and loss. There is always loss. In the moment of light remaining just a pause to … Read more
I’m changing things up a bit. I’ll be posting video of my poetry being read on Mondays. You can find us on Facebook live at 8am on my author page here and if there is interest, I’ll post the videos here, as well. It’s all in prep for my new poetry collection this fall, … Read more
If her words didn’t matter, her father would lift his eyes from the television commercials and not busy his mouth with coffee. Her mother would stop dusting, looking sternly at the baseboards. If her words didn’t matter her boss would not interrupt her in time to claim the idea as his own. Her boyfriend would … Read more
Hail blown sideways by the wind, dark clouds churning across the horizon, as the horses brace against the stinging ice pellets, their noses tucked tight to their chests, running for shelter. A stark reminder on this hot summer day, torn leaves stripped to the ground, intermingled with ice, standing water everywhere, that seasons so long … Read more
Walking past the mare, I let my hand follow the shape of her body, her hair so short it has no texture in the height of summer. My fingers slip under her mane first, and remembering the full moon on night she was born, watching with the rest of the herd as her dam gave … Read more
A stick pony to start, with a wooden head and twine for a mane. The tiny girl stomped unevenly, imagining hooves at the end of her pudgy legs, her mother’s back turned, hurrying dinner for the men. Later a spring horse that the girl could climb on all by herself, jumping hard up-and-down, the toy’s … Read more
Midsummer, the mare stands square, hooves flat and neck low, her muzzle faced into the corner of a dark stall, her tail as still as the heat. Do not disturb. Hat brim tilted for hot shade, dragging my feet in small circles, searching dusty bins for one more clamp needed to repair a gate. Water … Read more
She declared that she loved her horse as if loving took a sort of noble skill rare to our kind. As if loving a horse was a defiant act that few achieve. Excused from the menial tasks of picking hooves and tending wounds, she claimed an instant of shared breath as the proof of her … Read more