The Morning Mile

I am destined not to run, but to sputter slowly, to amble on, wheezing, as cars zoom past me, and cyclists, their forms exposed by spandex. Other runners pass, avoiding eye contact. Children scurry on, chasing each other. A kind elderly couple saunters by, holding hands until the end. Birds fly overhead, circle in wonder, …

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Five Seconds from Brilliance

By Julie Nelson

A hummingbird trapped inside a window, bashing against the pane— a body heaves, feathers batter a soundless song. He knows not the open door of sun and nectar— only glimpses captured through clouded glass. And inside you, the cancer grows thick — your body bruises against the veil shrouding eyes from the narrow portal, clutching …

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