In their garden, I learned

In their garden, I learned

Poems by Lee Stark 01 In their garden, I learned  to splay the roots against their will, ideally with wet fingers but with a knife if  they did not want to leave.  This would stop the entire plant from bursting forth like a champagne cork, they said, when the ground...

If Quakers Were Witches

by Sara Jolena Wolcott My grandmother loved moss.  We would go on long walks together (well, I thought they were long, as an 9 year old), and look at the lichen on trees together with great delight. Upon a magnificent vista, a special clearing, or a Great Old Tree,...

Ostara

Passages through the Valley of Dry Bones By Allen McGrew Representative to Quaker Earthcare Witness from Ohio Valley Yearly Meeting Beneath the monotone gray skies of February, before the Cardinal’s first song or the muskrat emerges from its winter den, as I crunch...