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    The Train by Sue Pivetta

    When at night I chance to hear A train’s soulful whistle blow The silent evening sonneteer Creates a longing in my soul A haunting evening reveille Sad and sweet, it pulls my heart Towards some forgotten memory This sound now does impart. I pause in breath, so I can hear Hoping for another call She starts out far, then comes near Moaning out a lonesome drawl. So what young lover was it That parted with the train? Who left this sorrowful epithet? I can’t recall a face nor name. Could the cry so sweet and low Mourn a love that never came Echoing through hearts grown cold For all lost…

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    Quiet Light by Lorna McGinnis

    Beginning Yellow light through smudged window stream, Soft as a dream. Cheek pressed to sheet, Day I don’t greet.  Bright swells within the rosy room, Eating the gloom. Soon I will shift, And my head lift. The sunshine gilds my tousled hair, Drifts in still air. My eyes unglue, Blink morning new. Sea Shade Shadow haze floats under still sea, A blackened tree, A rippling smear Water calm, clear. The gloom trembles, etched in sunlight, Mid-morning bright. As the day grows The darkness flows. Wavering branches plumb the deeps Where seaweed sleeps And soft silt drifts, Tide sweeps and shifts.

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    Hallelujah, a novella excerpt by Liz Shine

    The sun beat down and the rocks were hot to walk over. Kate took an inner tube way out in the river, her long pale body draped over the tube, her arms and legs splashing in the water, her face skyward. Noah and Ben waded out, Noah carrying Ben’s football and bragging about how he could throw a tight spiral. Amy and I took our buckets to collect rocks and those tiny, dark fish that swim in the mud. Last time we went to the river it was just Noah and me, so he didn’t mind hanging back at the edge of the water teaching me how to skip rocks.…

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    Hitching to NYC by Alec Clayton

    It was a week before Christmas way back in 1973. I made the bold decision to hitchhike from South Mississippi to New York City where I would become a famous artist. How I was going to do that was something I hadn’t quite considered. My brother took me out to Highway 11 and let me out. I had an old army surplus coat a friend had given me and a backpack another friend had given me. I had some pretty cool friends back then. The backpack was stuffed with clothes and a toothbrush and two paperback books: The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and On the Road. And a hundred dollars in travelers…