A pause is a hiatus, a recess, an extra breath in and out.
But paws are kneading me, and needing me, to shout out to the world that MOLLY will be soon in town.
© Shelley Steinle, illustrator. Molly licks her paw in MOLLY FINDS HER PURR, pub date 9/24/19.
But the shore beckons me with each wave on the sandy beach – Continue reading
“I can’t quite believe this,” the specialist exclaims.
These are words I like to hear from my agent when she’s scanning my just-written manuscript.
But they are not words a doctor should express to a new patient after he has taken a biopsy of a gland that popped out of nowhere on an until-now rather nondescript index finger. Continue reading
We need to be sensible, we’re told,
yet if we forgo the sensitive, our poems won’t unfold. Continue reading
What do you do when you’re told to do nothing?
That’s been my dilemma this past week after a distracted driver (ie, texting) plowed into me and my guy as we headed to Delaware to visit my mom.
We never made it. Damage to car and persons was better than expected, except I got a concussion.
I won’t go into the discomfort and the fear as my body showed me in many ways that I had to stop, which I didn’t do until I finally visited my doctor, who set forth a five-day-rule: Continue reading
