From Solitude to Gratitude

9232638702 eac7ff6827

I miss my wall; that beautiful stone wall

in summer; overlooking

the clover field; corn field

swaying and shushing behind me

woodchucks’ fuzzy brown heads

would always pop up from the doors

of their underground homes

26263708638 42a5b9feb1

I miss my wall; with the pasture on the left

with spotted cows; black and white

one by one they’d look up

and dare to glare as I would stare

if I say boo! Would they jump?

I miss my wall of solitude

I remember it with gratitude

photo credit: Michel_Rathwell <a href=”″>Groundhogs</a&gt; via <a href=””>photopin</a&gt; <a href=””>(license)</a&gt;

photo credit: darrenleno <a href=”″>2013-07-07_18-44-49_257</a&gt; via <a href=””>photopin</a&gt; <a href=””>(license)</a&gt;


On the Road to What’s Next


25583762727 5d6729d6f9
The road to “What’s Next”


Graduation from college is an accomplishment for anyone who has hopes for a better future. No matter what your age is, graduation is a milestone. What happens after graduation remains to be seen. This is the moment when the real work begins. What will one do with this so-called higher education? I suppose it depends on why you went to college, to begin with. Continue reading “On the Road to What’s Next”

Four Years Wasted

laptop2V_mockingbird_from morguefile



It started with the
We had so much in common
we thought
You said you loved her, except
you broke it off
To be with me

I was about to give up on
Until you suddenly appeared
in chat
You provoked my curiosity and
I lowered my resistance
So you could be with me

The first year was
Your love flowed like lava
searing my very soul
I formed a glacier to
shield my outer shell
Now you think I’m fine

The second year proved
I was always sorting through
your words
I had a new profession called
private detective
The double meaning of your words was

On our third year, we saw
the sun
We finally started our business called
the couple
With resources combined into an
investment called home
The sky was so blue and
the air so clear

The fourth year was covered in soot, so
You were back to the
You told her you love me, but
it’s not working out
I took on a second job called
waste management

Ragged fibers of my heart were
dripping sorrow
Raised white scars were
forming on my soul
You managed once again to
put me in my place

I sat
staring out the smoky window
Four years wasted




Story by Jill Yoder


His story becomes


Her story points to

his story

He is her legacy

Her agony

started his story

She teaches

as he reaches

He listens

to her lessons

She cries

when he flies

He’s brave

as she waves

First story

Second story

Third story

He climbs

Her story defines

The glory he finds.