Blog : Beautiful-Things

[1] 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Last 

A Perceivable Soul

A Perceivable Soul By Robert Root   |  May 20, 2019
The last time we saw her, two weeks before she died, her dementia seemed to have taken everything from her. The traits we thought particularly hers were no longer visible to us.

Like Breath, Like Doors

Like Breath, Like Doors By Anne McGrath   |  May 13, 2019
I woke at 3 a.m. to what sounded like a barking seal. It was my husband—teeth chattering, too weak to stand, and too confused to speak.

How to Leave Without Saying Goodbye

How to Leave Without Saying Goodbye By Kristin Tenor   |  May 6, 2019
Remember that afternoon you asked me to be your accomplice, your getaway driver, your ticket to freedom?

The Art of Icebergs

The Art of Icebergs By Sharon Goldberg   |  April 29, 2019
In Jokusarlon Lagoon, at the edge of Vatnajokull, Iceland's largest glacier, ten of us and Erik, our guide, bounce bounce bounce in a Zodiac boat. We are here to see icebergs, calves of the glacier, chunks that break off and fall into the water.

What Dreams May Come

What Dreams May Come By Gina Williams   |  April 22, 2019
If it wasn't for me, maybe he'd still be dreaming. When I told my Dad I wanted to live forever, he said, "Just wait 'till you get to be my age, then you'll wish you were dead." I was eight. He was twenty-eight. He was always joking, never kidding.

Family Portrait

Family Portrait By Laura S. Distelheim   |  April 15, 2019
Yesterday, when I was riding the train north from Chicago, back to the suburb where I live, I happened to look up from the newspaper I was reading just as the tracks veered up alongside the back of a faded brown brick building, where I saw two children seated at a kitchen table in one of its windows....

Cold (repeat)

Cold (repeat) By Kate Hopper   |  April 8, 2019
On the hottest days in San Vicente, I sit on the front porch of my host family's house, sweat dripping from under my arms, dust turning to mud on my salt-streaked legs.

Peaches (repeat)

Peaches (repeat) By Elizabeth Paul   |  April 1, 2019
The peach's soft flesh is so barely protected by its thin and fuzzy skin that I think it can't possibly be serious, but rather a jubilant sunburst, radiant and unworried in the brief noon of its summered existence, simply satisfied with the bright sweetness of its being....

Jesus, the Wonder Bread of Life

Jesus, the Wonder Bread of Life By Rachel Rueckert   |  March 25, 2019
Mom gave me the idea, an object lesson given to her as a girl. "Pass it around," I said to my Mormon Bible study class. After a pause, the other preteens passed around the slice of Wonder Bread....

Perennial

Perennial By Kristine Jepsen   |  March 18, 2019
Yesterday my uncle Russ, my dad's older brother, texted me a video of a peony bush in bloom. The plant isn't his—he left the farm where it grows, in the remains of his mother's garden, to become a middle-school band director a half-century ago. But he can't stop tending things, a dogged farmer....

Very Large Array

Very Large Array By Ann Vallee   |  March 11, 2019
While traveling in New Mexico, I made a pilgrimage to the high desert to see the Karl G. Jansky Array, curious to witness a telescope as big as a valley....

Midnight Feedings

Midnight Feedings By Alexa Dodd   |  March 4, 2019
We are limbs, braided and heavy, under sheets reluctant to release us. We are dreams interrupted, sleep sliced away like an appendage, the knife a familiar siren, filling the space between walls. We are silhouettes, faceless shapes against muted window glow....

Young Moons

Young Moons By Melissa Sevigny   |  February 25, 2019
The moon drifts in the west, too thin to be called a crescent, Venus above like a sleeping child lowered by invisible hands into a cradle. It's a glimmer in the sunset sky above a skyline of pine, a sweep of summer grass....

October

October By Kathryn Wilder   |  February 18, 2019
October light leaks between slats of graying barn wood. A yellow stripe marks Craig's cheek, his shoulder. I taste salt and smell sun on skin and in the hay beneath me that makes our bed in the neighbor’s old hay barn, a place we run to in daylight....

Powerless

Powerless By Madeline Bodin   |  February 11, 2019
Our off-the-grid neighbors say that they know when the power has gone out because a chorus of hums rises from the generators in the valley. Now, our house has joined that choir....

Life Science

Life Science By Michelle Hope   |  February 4, 2019
You taught me, once, about the Swainson's thrush—its call like an invitation to another world: a swirling up of sound, unseen. Teach me the names of all the birds you know, and how they sing....

Back Aisles (repeat)

Back Aisles (repeat) By Ashley Hutson   |  January 28, 2019
The library building was my body like your children are your body, like your spouse is your body. Its wood and glass grew out of my chest. It came with a key and code. 

Mosque/Musk

Mosque/Musk By Heidi Czerwiec   |  January 21, 2019
I want to tell you that the word 'musk' comes to us from the Sanskrit mushkas, meaning 'testicle,' testimony to source in the aromatic abdominal sacs of musk deer....

Say When, Say It Louder

Say When, Say It Louder By Rachael Peckham   |  January 14, 2019
You pinned me to the basketball court in the middle of gym class while Mrs. Thompson was busy tending to a "situation" in the locker room, or off fetching ice from the cafeteria....

Ghost Sigh

Ghost Sigh By Terry Parker   |  January 7, 2019
I survey the elegant glass skyline crowded on the tray: the fine-boned Chanel, curvy Burberry, sleek Cabochard. The bottles display various levels of fragrant amber liquid, belying their owner’s favor. Each has its unique cap or stopper, competing like fancy hats at the Derby....

Forced Quince, as Study

Forced Quince, as Study By Arra Ross   |  December 31, 2018
The way, on the fourth day, the sepals' little leaflets, grown twice yesterday's size to a fourth inch, have curled back–like legs spread or backs arched—from the buds, and....

Pooled in Ripples

Pooled in Ripples By Holly Pelesky   |  December 24, 2018
I wasn't like the other 22-year-olds after you, carelessly wearing bright bikinis. I was too preoccupied with how I looked suddenly: child bearing hips, a soft middle....

Miracle at Delancey Street

Miracle at Delancey Street By Jean-Marie Saporito   |  December 17, 2018
My drive to the Delancey Street Christmas Tree lot begins on snowy roads through a canyon hemmed by pinion and sage studded cliffs and the icy Rio Grande....

Hair and Nails

Hair and Nails By Mary Elizabeth Reilly-McGreen   |  December 10, 2018
Jen was so venomous that I stopped having my students read their journal entries aloud. She said such cutting things unsolicited. She made a student cry just by staring at him....

Standoff at Wolf Creek

Standoff at Wolf Creek By Rachel Smith   |  December 3, 2018
I tell Cory "no" again. I can't help him resurrect dinosaurs using chicken eggs, even if I am impressed that an eight-year-old already knows so much about genetics and paleontology....

When and How

When and How By Anna Claire Beasley   |  November 26, 2018
1) A tent flap When the zipper teeth cut the air, filling the tent, humid from a night of bodies letting out breath after breath....

First Flight

First Flight By Sarah Curtis   |  November 19, 2018
My first memory is a lie: I am a baby, flying around the living room....

Eighteen, Both of Us

Eighteen, Both of Us By Sarah Weaver   |  November 12, 2018
And still unkissed. Blame it on our strict Christian homes, the rules at the Bible school we were attending, guilt, or just plain old nerves....

Correction

Correction By Sian Griffiths   |  November 5, 2018
I am correcting your typos (fallow becoming follow, gooing becoming going), correcting the interesting but incorrect with the boring and banal because what you meant was boring and banal....

Art Lesson (repeat)

Art Lesson (repeat) By Joanne Lozar Glenn   |  October 29, 2018
They saved it for Fridays. Every teacher had the same projects. Fall: iron leaves between waxed paper. Winter: chalk snow scenes on black construction paper. Spring: draw daffodils. Except for Miss Malik. She was young, pretty, and not a nun....

Newsletter Sign Up

shadow shadow