Author: stephen t berg

There are, here, the makings of a miracle:a crumbling loaf of bread, like a body that’s spent its decades in pain,and two fishes, like searching eyes,and ...

While every anthophilous (frequenter of flowers) loves an April, I slump sad to know the frailty of such things, and to know that within every pistil, stamen, o...

I think of a friend who eats out of sorrow,then, forgets to eat, out of grief. She sits alone in her bedroom, like a desert sparrow, like an owl in a biblical w...