By John Ziegler I woke at dawn.Still beneath the musty quiltI cranked the tall window open,smelled the moist air coming off the lake.I stretched and stepped from the bed,put on sneakers and jeans,the green flannel shirt over his white tee shirtand crept down the stairs to avoid waking the adults.I grabbed a muffin and an … Continue reading Blue Heron Lake
Fox Robe
By John Ziegler She called it the fox robe which it wasn’t.I found it in the steamer trunk in her atticwrapped in brown butcher paper.It was more of a blanket.Eight fox pelts with glass eyes, a hint of fine yellow teeth.Unrolled, it released the aroma of moth ballsintended to prevent moths from eating the foxes.The … Continue reading Fox Robe
The Cellar
By John Ziegler Grandma sent me down the creaky wooden steps to fetch jars of dilly beans and pickled beets. Which aroused my anxiety because there was a monkey paw in the back corner.Not so menacing by daylightbut after dark, that’s when the thing came alive.It was a fuzzy hunk of brown insulationon a water … Continue reading The Cellar
Luther’s Story and Lydia’s Sampler
By John Ziegler Luther’s Story The aroma of white cheddar, and bread, warm on the palm,the joke about Leiderkrantz.His father’s long lip over smokey teeth,white shirt, trimmed nailssmooth hands of a baker.The woman in the fox fursipping camomile in the dark restaurant,the iron sounds of the night across the river.The barber’s chair,the fragrant foam, collarless … Continue reading Luther’s Story and Lydia’s Sampler
Franklin Street 1957
By John Ziegler The rag man, in his broken shoes pushes his cart along the brick street, calls out with chafed voice,“Papers, magazines, rags.”.All afternoon the air is still and pale,the yellow leaves pasted to the wet street.Near dusk, Schmoyer’s farm truck clanks onto Franklin Street,loaded with cabbages, and carrots,potatoes with the mud still on.The … Continue reading Franklin Street 1957
June Morning and June Evening
By John Ziegler June Morning The wind brushing the tall pines at night sounds like the husk of woodwinds. Morning light ignites the honeysuckle, sunshine warms my back. In my out - of - round bowl, voluptuous strawberries covered with home brewed yogurt, a slice of crusty toast. This lofty June morning small golden bees … Continue reading June Morning and June Evening
Academy of the Heart And Mind 