Ella arrived back home just before midnight. The golden carriage’d been delayed—unexpected maintenance—so she’d had to find her own way. Skirts rain-soaked, glass slippers…well, slippery…she shucked the gown and ran home in her chemise, dropping one slipper in the mud. Continue reading
I Got Life
Pre-COVID, we met, early Saturdays, in the Midtown Market. Few stirred: lady mall cop, staff from the attached hospital, lone coffee shop doing brisk business, shops from around the world setting up. We were inspired by Heaven’s scents. Continue reading
Boy
At his age, you’d expect a lot less.
At his age, you’d expect his eyes to grow wide
His mouth to open in shock,
His shoulders to rise and curl around himself in protection. Continue reading
Growing Pains
Janina sat on the stone wall of the spring-fed pool. Behind her, her father’s castle clashed with loud music, shattering glass, and women’s high-pitched giggles. Her fourteenth birthday; she was sick of it all. Continue reading
Still Waters
“Okay, you can uncover your eyes now.”
“Wow! That’s beautiful…and heartbreaking. Who made this mural?”
“Trevor made this one. And take a few steps around this corner. This is one by Teresa. Yeah…it makes me tremble, too.”
“Wait! Those quiet kids who never join in on anything?” Continue reading
In the Impossible Woods
In deep woods, somewhere near the middle and the end, launching from the first and hovering near the last, always returning to the origin, is a clearing. Sometimes there, other times elsewhere, most often not present at all. Continue reading
RIP Twin Cities
This gentle giant
Ended by corrupt police
Remember George Floyd.
Hope strained, smoke-stained streets
Shattered hearts, Minnesota
Patience, as we heal.
(This, on top of COVID. And those who gather together–prayers broken by opportunistic anarchists–risk a steeper next wave in the coming weeks.)
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)
Valley 