by Armida Cervantez | Sep 28, 2017 | Abbey Country, Community, Essays |
It’s a windy autumn in the desert. There are no stands of evergreens or pines to break the force–only dust, dry and crumbly under feet and irritating sand in the eye. The first graders lined up with fortitude in this dust. We waited patiently for the...
by AVA | Sep 28, 2017 | poetry |
These haiku were written by our readers on 9/27. Visit our Facebook page each Wednesday to write haiku with us. Like and follow us so you don’t miss us: https://www.facebook.com/lightcapfarm/ Twilight in Louisiana: When the sun goes down The air...
by Carolyn Waggoner | Sep 26, 2017 | Fiction |
What you grinning at, monkey boy? I sigh imperceptibly and close my gilded eyelids without a sign. Why is it that men of a certain age with pale, knobby, varicose-bedeviled legs insist on wearing shorts, socks, and sandals whenever and wherever they vacation? Or the...
by Carolyn M. Crane | Sep 22, 2017 | Essays |
Cancer is pretty much ubiquitous these days. Watch the commercials during any t.v. show if in doubt. We all know someone who has cancer, who’s died of cancer, who’s survived cancer. It hovers around us like—well—like a cancer. But it’s much different when it knocks on...
by AVA | Sep 14, 2017 | poetry |
These haiku were written by our readers on 9/13/17. Visit our Facebook page each Wednesday and write haiku with us! https://www.facebook.com/lightcapfarm/ I wake to darkness The cool sweet breeze on my skin Blessed birth of Fall –Sandy Jean Borden ##...
