From the Editor Winter 2024
A kind of love poem for my wife
and biscuits and gravy
By Dan Breen
On the kitchen counter
an empty bottle of rubbed sage
it has been there a month
a waiting reminder
more is needed
despite, can you imagine,
all the trips to the grocery
it remains
some may criticize
loose objects, unbound
to the cabinet
how we remember
Sunday mornings
not the same
without sage