writing – Jennifer Summer

There have been times in my life that I’ve been so low I could taste the ground. My mouth was filled with […]

gardening

And then she can breathe again, the fresh air of him plumping out her lungs, pillowing into her chest. This is the […]

earth day — Nana used to say that she believed trees were people reincarnated, and you could tell what kind of person […]

This is a piece I wrote a year ago, but I have re-worked it here. — The body remembers. It remembers every […]

37 — Thirty-seven and here’s what I’ve learned: Always say yes to dessert. Enormous hills are meant to be rolled down. Only […]

gardening — Life tells us to bloom where we are planted; essentially, to accept our fate and make the best of it, […]

under seas — When I was a child, escape was crucial to survival. I would close the door to my bedroom and […]

milk — And we were the girls who were told we’d be ‘spoiled’ if we let anything inside us before marriage; a […]

immortal spirit — The 1937 edition of Webster’s Universal Unabridged Dictionary defines ‘soul’ as: a word common to the Teutonic languages; Grimm […]

skipping beats — This is a divine darkness that they pulse back and forth between them. The goosebumps that run a circle […]