Finding Myself Quitting My Job

Linda Back McKay By the lake, just in time. Sweet water ocean tossed over rocks by the moon’s sleight of hand. We warm by degrees, reluctant to give over to change. I feel ornery like my banging first floor radiator. Steam rises to meet a peeled-back sky. Swallowing perfumes of honeysuckle, apple blossom, columbine, I… More