kitchen

Poetry

A September Breakfast in the Piedmont

A grasshopper sat on my toaster today, / Looking puzzled yet nonchalant. Paul Murphy
Poetry

Where Mothers Hung the Clothes

On a fall afternoon in my warm kitchen, I bake a frittata. / Fried onions, red potatoes, cream, cheddar, eggs Joyce Victor
Poetry

Oranges

When my smell came back, I caught / a whiff of lapsang souchong steeping John Minczeski
Poetry

Ollie Ollie 

Giggling, she runs from the family room couch / where I sit and count, both hands over my eyes. Carl “Papa” Palmer
Features

Crushed

An Appalachian mining family struggles to find ways to survive. Michael Soika
Features

And Hear Their Death-Knell Ringing

A teenager’s rocky relationship with her Quaker grandmother. Lynn Gazis
Poetry

This in Remembrance

Something was always on the stove. We talked / until a lid began to dance, and again / when she… Donald Mace Williams
Poetry

How I Say God

"When she died, my mother left me with joy..." Robin Dellabough
Online Features

The Last Friend On Earth

There must be other people still alive somewhere. I don’t know where. I don’t know how to find them even… Joy Weimer
Features

Pistachios and Cats

Shoes line the walls of the Grand Bazaar. Yellow shoes. Blue shoes. Black shoes. Red shoes. Lynn Gazis
Features

What A Minute Could Do

The first minute to take effect was minute 2023.12.1b of the Lower Sittingbourne Local Meeting Hospitality Committee: Arrangements for social… Rhiannon Grant
Features

Something Odd about the Dyers

Mr. Erick Dyer, a Quaker man from an old Quaker family, found the pod in his farm’s back forest on… Mel Stephen Sharpe
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