Slant

The air is still The tree outside my window: still slanted I greet the day with my red pen I practice writing bearing witness to my clumsy anxiety while our country swells with misdeeds If I can stop myself mid-misdeed & apologize correct my acts, turn to love will it matter? Will being careful with […]

Light Is A Wave That I Ride

I bring you the sound of the waves underneath my board. I bring you my solitude — hard won, necessary. I bring you the sun, the wind, my inability to know its direction. The wind was moving; its direction didn’t matter. I kept moving & not moving. I was still & not still & the […]

The Pause

The tress across the street grows at a slant. I love the view outside my window: the tall cypress tree the pink roses 4 Subaru’s black bees with a touch of yellow hummingbirds, crows, bright flowers. The coffee pot hisses. This Sunday prayer of mine; I praise my view, lukewarm coffee, a dog curled into […]

Growth

It’s strange to be in my office working. Strange to look at my bulletin boards: quotes and drawings and pictures of my family. There’s a painting by Chris that sits at my eye-level. It’s a woman looking down, intent on her work. I am intent about my work. I carefully place these quotes and drawings […]

Gratitude

I want to slow down enough to write a pantoum. But my mind is made up of lists. Lists and the need to reach through a touch of fear as I tackle task after task. I know I just have to dive into the new, that I’ve written at least a thousand articles. Writing an […]

Love Song

Love Song  by Nancy Schatz Alton I write my own love song equal parts poetry & sorrows every experience that shattered me sits next to my strength. The rain slants & this is still the perfect phrase reused like sorrow & sadness as familiar as rage & grief. We seek new ways to describe the […]

Peace

Today we toured a house that’s for sale on our block. We walked through in stocking feet, talked about the wiring, wondered at the cracks in the cement in the basement. Cement in the basements. The smell of basements. Basements carry the smell of childhood. Even if a basement doesn’t smell like my Grandma’s basement, […]

Red

The days grow brighter. Some mornings I believe all will be well (if I only glance sideways at the news). If I rest my gaze on my girls who grow solid in their centers. They show me themselves. They rest in knowing I like them. If I only glance here, I think hooray—we are doing […]