For Cousteau

by Laura Parker Roerden We protect what we love, an explorer once told us. But of what love did he mean? The love for a flower or that of a son? The love for a rock held safe in our palm, or that for a steeple? The love of a farmer for a seed or ofContinue reading “For Cousteau”

The Nests

by Laura Parker Roerden Go to the nests, she said. They are no longer hidden by the leaves. They are round, and have born tiny birds now strong enough to fly. You’ll know them by their shape, like hands now wrung. But the nests are high, she answered, and sway in the wind. Do not beContinue reading “The Nests”

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