Katherine's Coffeehouse

Cold closes its jaws on sunlight, thin remains of air. That brutal beauty of headstrong hope. -Katherine Gotthardt

Nighttime cherry tree, impending windstorm. Pang of letting go. -Katherine Gotthardt Painting by Andrew Gotthardt

Drizzling into the day, sweat of an overworked sky. -Katherine Gotthardt

Bearing the burden of all the right things, honesty's fragile fingers. -Katherine Gotthardt Photo by Benjamin Ranger on Unsplash

Age grow in at the edges, each experience white, baby-fine. Try not to judge these wispy years while we become what we're meant to be. -Katherine Gotthardt

Angry Twitter posts. Outside my window, ivy thrives in winter. -Katherine Gotthardt

Bedside, I hold your plump hand, cold, white thread of foam sewing your lips shut, as if you disapprove of crying. It would be horrible if not for the knowing you’d transformed, universe having finished contracting, your soul sucked backed to the source, reverse birth, energy united, ready for reincarnation. How I’ll remember that exact […]

for my mother-in-law on the morning of her passing These leaves, white with winter, and those frozen, spiky cones, then, a cement barrier, marked “no trespassing,” protecting a broken dam– seagulls pay no mind to signs. On the side of the rough road, two frozen dandelions, still yellow, look ridiculously optimistic, as a horn beeps […]

Broken windowpane, winter wind in the bedroom. Audible birdsong. -Katherine Gotthardt

My paltry decades of living and I cannot understand how mountains bear their memories. -Katherine Gotthardt