by Ryan Harper

Was a daydream in the unelected silence
of an April afternoon—an exhausted body
shocked still, pinned even upon waking.

by Sue Proffitt

We set places for them at the table—
white bowls, wicker mats , wine glasses  

alternate living    dead    living    dead—
take our seats without speaking,  

by Jonathan Chibuike Ukah

Like a man tethered to the edge of a cliff,
I stumbled into the ragged end of a mountain,
where there were no roses and no daisies;
the wind was whipping at my back,

by Fran Markover

Nights, I’d wait for Julius’ descent downstairs for dinner. I watched
as he bobbed up and down at the table, hummed Ofyn Pripetchik in an

by Corey Flintoff

The radio said it was going to be another beautiful day in Spartanburg County. Beulah Riley looked out her kitchen window and agreed that it was so.

by Alice Wyman

I am worried about the pistol. How its blank pop will rip the air apart. I am worried about everything really— the start, the finish, and every twist in between—for all the good it’ll do.

by Layne Matthews Boles

I sat next to Liam beside his parents on a wooden pew at St. Anne’s Catholic Center. It was November in Texas, and I wore wood-block heels and a long-sleeve green dress with small blue birds on it.

by Tonia Martin

This painting is an attempt to capture life-giving waters pushed by a pendulum of time, aligning with the truth of God as keeper of time. It is the result of my study on the phrase “Let there be light.”

by Douglas Porter

As an artist, I do not think about myself as a creator. I prefer to think of myself as a maker. A creator brings into being something that did not exist before.

by Jacqueline Wallen

In the quiet moments of everyday life, there exists an invitation to see the world more deeply—to move beyond the surface and engage with the essence of what is before us. Contemplative photography is a practice that invites us to do just that.