





Dawn arrives and your spirals imprint the sky; I coast toward the lemon pink rings that glide tenderly upward It would be easy to slide
“Traditions bring people together,” declared a 7th grade student in my 5th period class. We were sitting in large squarish circle. Our first Socratic Seminar
What’s your size? She asks. “Oh, you know, 6, 8, 10.” I. Am. A turtle, retreating into her shell. A deflated balloon on the frozen
My silence seemed like abandonment, neglect, angry to you on those days when I asked for a reprieve, a moment to gather, mourn, feel. It