September 9, 2025

what didn’t make the news

Slices of late season tomatoes flecked with coarse salt.
Whatever strange mushroom that’s growing in the front yard.
The clerk at the Circle K who typed in my lottery numbers one night.
Paul and his collection of drills, always ready to fix something. The tight
way Judith hugs, as if reminding you of your significance, and not to be afraid.
Walking in silence the length of Shore Road, hearing each tenor note
of the breeze. The apples, returning, transforming trees into cities of fruit. Found pens between couch cushions, or in coat pockets, or a parking lot.
Margaret reading a poem at a picnic table in her swim suit.
What low tide revealed, and later the secrets it kept.
The feeling of an old photograph: part joy, part sorrow, part “not yet.”