the wonder of not knowing
people see me,
bike riding to the village without
a care, because everything
then was good.
maybe that’s the hardest part of watching
my sons grow up. Now
they’ll realize they have to be
careful. because the world is
and it does not understand.
At 29, Mary Young Pickersgill couldn’t have imagined the impact of the stitches she pulled through the stiff canvas fabric. She hadn’t been a widow long when she was commissioned with the overwhelming order from the United States armed forces, so she recruited help from her daughter, two nieces, and two free women of color. Together, feverishly and late into the evenings, their eyes must have burned with the strain of working by candlelight.
Pickersgill couldn’t have known the 50 pound, 30-foot by 42-foot, 15-starred and 15-striped garrison flag would take nine men…
Click here to read the rest of my column in this month’s Zionsville Current Newspaper!
The robins and I
each other, as if neither were a surprise
but simply the intertwining
of the world.
The river birch struggles
above us, a victim of last year’s
This is not a surprise, either.
The world is harsh,