by Abigail Rudibaugh Humility, wearing that itchy Christmas sweater, meets my folded arms walking past Salvation Army bells for late-night groceries. Why do I get to decide if I want to donate? When did they become “others,” (and not “brothers”) who wait across the city hope-bent that people will share? – “To whom much is […]
A Haiku by Abigail Rudibaugh Oscillating drinks— Ice water to steeping tea. Hand-held thermostat.
by Abigail Rudibaugh The end to the day is the child sweetly dreaming by 8pm. There is a diligence, and a frustration, when it takes longer than expected. Rewind to 4 in afternoon when the baby’s sleepy eyes wake from a nap. Only ninety more minutes to explore and build until the day turns into […]