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Deb Farris reading near river
White Air

White Air

A song through the wind to my ears. Robin withdraws from spatting sparrows to tiptoe through white air. Wordless, sparks in mist, crystal airwaves of the morning sky land on my hood. I sense your presence, unseen and formless. Or is it here I see you? Low branches,...
What We Will or Will Not Be

What We Will or Will Not Be

We will not be content existing like the groundhog, burrowing beneath the beauty, hibernating throughout the winters. But like the golden eagle, we will mount up and nest on the cliffs above waterfalls and grasslands, harbingers of the heights, traveling through the...
Through the Tall Wooden Door

Through the Tall Wooden Door

Through the tall wooden door she leaves one realm and enters another, turning the nob, stepping into dawn’s light, streetlights yet lit, half-moon lingers. The sun hovers above horizon, a mirage, holy light, appears with early morning dog walkers. Icicles break free...
On Becoming the Caregiver

On Becoming the Caregiver

What I wouldn’t give to flip on the switch of fluorescent light and breathe in the scent of clean clothes from that little laundry room, just one more time. What I wouldn’t give to see the surprise on Dad’s face as I call his name from the door of the condo and find...
On Returning to the Place I Call Home

On Returning to the Place I Call Home

When we first started living in this old house in 1969, I never gave a thought to how many times I would leave and return to its backdoor. It was the family home. When you’re fifteen, you don’t think about these things. At that point, I only knew I planned to leave. I...

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