by Abigail Rudibaugh In 5th grade Art classour new project wasto make clay food.The teacher askedit to be life-like. But at home I sawa pile of clay berriesshiny and perfectsitting on the sillabove the sink. So I decided to makea giant strawberry—different than all the rest—as a surprise giftto the collection. I didn’t know the […]
by Abigail Rudibaugh I believe there are a million ways to send a bouquet of flowers. Daffodils can be sent just by finding someone’s eyes as they talk. Sunflowers can be sent by smiling. Roses, perhaps, when you take time to hear a humble opinion. A dozen roses when you implement it. I could go […]
by Abigail Rudibaugh My husband—The under-paid editorand faithful encourager—says sometimes my poemsstretch a little too long. So, I’ll keep this two sentences(Please overlook the run-on—I’m new at this),to catch his eye with mineand nod to affirm I hear.
By Abigail Rudibaugh Fresh language revives mebetter than a hot cup of coffee.Its fingers motioning secret accessto another world only lastinganother moment, while I breakthe magnetic pull of my warmlayered bed of cotton softin curiosity as my daughterdeclares, “The sunrise is wakingus up with all its colors.”.With the blinds closedshe must have seen itseeping through […]