Susan Moorhead

It’s been snowing for hours and the only people on this street tonight are you and some woman who was also on the train late, and the [...]

Oranges, the way my mother ate them. Standing at the sink, eating the slices one by one in rapid succession, in-between chores, determined [...]

Every year it’s something with the hose. There was the year we started to unravel it in early spring, and found a nest of impossibly [...]

The morning’s light convinces the leaf on the top of the tallest tree to stir and unfurl, a green page opening to the beginning. [...]

I wanted to write a poem for the new year inspired by the blank, daily squares of January in my new calendar, and my love of fresh starts. [...]

I am from the whistle of a tea kettle always calling from the stove, and a Scottish calendar tacked on the kitchen wall.  I am from [...]