Remote Work
By Katherine Gotthardt Somewhere in the midst of life’s lessons, I’m forgetting how to speak. I think it might be […]
Empathy
By Katherine Gotthardt The turtle has been crushed by a mower, life leaving through cracks in its shattered shell, coagulated,
Decisions
By Katherine Gotthardt Somewhere, there’s what I should be doing, somewhere between the smudged edges of you and me, between
Trust Me
I tell you trust isn’t something I lend like a new book you know damn well will never be returned.
Prayer of the Fields
In withering arms of darkness,
dew trying to pass for rainwater,
beaten terrain attempts to rise,
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Storefront
By Katherine Gotthardt In the dream, my bed is cemented in a storefront, and I, no control over window treatments
Light Discussion
Freedom means choosing your light, picking which part of the day means most, rising with mourning doves and dew, or
3 a.m.
By Katherine Gotthardt Often now, I think about death, usually at 3 a.m. when I wake to the thin
Cardinal
By Katherine Gotthardt Mornings, I want to write deeply, delve into the beak of the cardinal by my window,
Women of a Certain Age
We women of certain age have seen some things. But we don’t always tell. We tuck lessons learned into our
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Aftermath
I wrote this piece the day after the attack on the Capitol. May we always overcome, and may we never forget the fragility of peace.
Kitchen
When I remember you,
I want you to remember me,
not as I am now, but how it used to be,
through the narrow opening of time,