Descent

By Levi Andrew Noe
I tried to teach you how to shoot a spitwad. How to find the right shooter, just the right diameter.

Deep Blue

By Patricia O'Donnell
A farmer in Iowa continued farming well into his 80s. He drove his air-conditioned tractor ten hours a day, even when there was nothing to till, nothing to plow, nothing to disc or harrow or plant.

Photo Story: Cutting Lines

By Kathryn Pallant
It was her father’s favorite station: polished marble, vaulted ceiling, windows straight from a mansion house. Just like the best library he ever went to, but never had time for until the end.

Backyard Aristotle

By Leonard Kress
In this morning’s backyard drama the tiny green bird has crashed into the glass of the sliding door and lies feet up and claw-splayed on the brick patio.

The Life & Times of Minor Characters

By Gretchen Tessmer
Mary Ann had a thrilling day planned—wash basin full of dirty dishes, assorted soap-making and two dozen rabbit-sized waistcoats to iron out.

Diggers

By Amy Lafferty
In summertime we look for things buried in the clay. Our parents call us, but we lose their voices by digging deeper.

Lilly (My One and Only)

By Kaj Tanaka
—sunset like the head of that grotesque peeping tom you told me about the night I understood we would never belong together...

Photo Story: Breaking Point

By Melinda McCamant
The view is better now, a verdant hillside shattered, not one crimson setting sun but hundreds, the dusty smell of late summer drifting in.

Photo Story: This is Where We Are, Now

By Colin Lubner
Years after our planes stopped marking white x’s and asterisks across our blue sky (well, years after our sky stopped being blue at all) and years after our graves stopped staying graves ...

My Daughter’s Hands

By TJ Wood
They once drew from four strings Elgar’s Cello Concerto in E minor. Her arms danced about mahogany stained pine as partners, pulling to and fro.

Under The Shells

By Kayleigh Shoen
After the bomb scare, the high school snapped transparent knapsacks to students’ backs like inside-out turtle shells.

Photo Story: The Locker

By Hoffi Munt
We rent locker space the way our parents rent houses. They are our sliver of space in this public world; a place to store, to fill, to hide.