Short stories & poems for everyone from everyone
As the afternoon closes on four, the earlier clouds break apart. The brightest sunlight since Saturday bathes the west end of the deck. Tamarack leaves rustle in a passing breeze. Soon, Frankie will return....
Tightness in my throat. Remembering Mrs. Zengo’s confused disappointment. How hurt those brown eyes in that wrinkly forehead that creased with her frown. How sorry I felt—and unforgiven—until she realized I brought in an...
A dream in which H says, “I thought you were upset with me.” And I feel relieved. Another: I team-teach with an older ELA teacher at a new school. Students perform Shakespearean English in...
She serves from half-court. I return forearm. She backhands it over the net. I race into position and pivot, delivering the best backhand of our volley. Did she return it? Did I? Getting water...
The Sterling Pond trail sharply ascends the forested slope of Sterling Mountain. The Smuggler’s caves, rest rooms and parking lot lie across Route 108, nestled beneath Mount Mansfield’s western ridge. Step-like stones lead to...
Rain falls steady. I see the faint lines of its passage from my perch on the sofa. Classical music—a composition sounding suspiciously like circus music—plays on Vermont Public Radio. Three years with little rain:...
We arrive at the Notch Squad tent. Alison, a stocky, twenty-something woman smiles and greets us. A few moments later, she moves all of us—a handful of kids and parents—to Rigabello’s, since camp is...
see Mansfield againbefore taking the plunge downthe spiral pipe sliderelaxing in the hot tubFrankie under my arm The Cabot Factory Outlet in Waterbury offered a crowded house more than cheese samples. A pixie-cut-haired young...
The rust-colored bridge—Thaddeus something—looms ahead.. The sign next to it: Mohawk River—Erie Canal. After two-and-a-half hours driving north, we enter the heart of the capital region, just south of the Adirondacks. I’m so excited...
A cool breeze rustles the topmost leaves in the backyard. It spreads the white and gray cumulus clouds that enshroud the sky in a mass of growing darkness. It feels so much cooler than...
I almost can’t remember how the trains raced around the track. How Dad and I adjusted knobs and toggled twitches. How town lights turned on and off; how locomotives whirled out of the tunnel....
An old video, copied from an old film, shows me attempting to roller skate with the Sterino kids. I remember laughter, and perhaps some encouraging words from Debbie. She, with her long, thick brown...
