My parents weren’t car people, and they adopted a vehicle that only a bootlegger could love.
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Glorious Patchwork
It’s the ragged patches that make us who we are
Winter Solstice
December light is the sun with a migraine
Technically, astronomically, the solstice lasts three days. Time stands still, sort of, before moving in the sun’s favor. So, technically, astronomically, I have two more days in which to dry wood and make a real fire.
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The Christmas Ornament
Not all holiday mementos are joyful
Yes, he broke my heart, but I survived it. And the ornament was a symbol of that survival.
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The Conversation That Continues
An old friend is the best friend
It was the fall of 1970, and we were freshmen in high school, that tender, socially feverish age when your friendships are everything and time stands still around every relationship.
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The Pulitzer Prize
A forgotten novelist is remembered through music
Thomas Stribling won the Pulitzer Prize for a trilogy he wrote about Florence, Alabama. But when I was growing up in the 1960s, no one in Florence spoke of Stribling anymore.
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“Spell for the End of Grief”
Book Excerpt: Glass Harvest
Amie Whittemore’s poems have won multiple awards, including a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Prize, and her poems and prose have appeared in The Gettysburg Review, Nashville Review, Pleiades, and elsewhere. She teaches English at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro.
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