A Brief Moment That Mattered

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 […]

On Feelings—A Less Welcomed One

Anxiety is comingso there’s work to do.Journal, pray, read—stay busy, stay still,breathe and don’t exhaleuntil your throat catches the air. Diffuse wintergreen.Make chamomile tea, andmake yourself sweat, butpreferably not in that order.Let yourself stand in lineat Chipotle. Say yesto extra guacamole.Call your friendand talk about nothingbecause you can’t reallyname why your ribskeep clawing so tight. Tears […]

Found Inspiration

By Abigail Rudibaugh Inspiration is really goodat playing hide and seek.She asks you to count,your face flat on leather,cold and molding to youas you count to ten. You don’t tell her the truthyou don’t want to playbecause you know wellInspiration doesn’tlike the isolation. Ready or notyou duck under bedsand peek behind doorspuzzled at how easyyou […]

Moody Thursday

I’m not in the mood.Another day of grayafter a night withrestless little sleepers.The last thing I wantis to grab my penand write. Like oil changesand peeling potatoesand foldingthose same clothesevery week—routine can bea drag. Having to weara heavy coatdoesn’t help. But my body knows,practically overflows,ready to getthe words out— Rhythms at work againreminding me,“This is […]

The Art of Drafting

by Abigail Rudibaugh When do you knowwhen a balloonis blown full enoughor a handpicked bouquethas the right amount of lilacs?Even a fallen branch in a foreststill has work that he is doing. Half-finished things are everywhere—tucked away in documents filedor buried between ramblingsand folds and pockets.There’s a poem right nowin the back of my mindjust […]

Genesis 1:7

by Abigail Rudibaugh Alarm clock, snooze, slippers,coffee pot pre-set to brew,pile of books and blank pagesscent of lavender traces. Of course plenty will be in motiontwo hours from now—but it will wait outside the door,trying not to creak the floor. I’m busy finding the brushstrokeson the painting above my desk.Even with all the intentional marks,why […]