Poems, stories and rants by writer Julie Buffaloe-Yoder. April 7, 2011 by Julie. Sheds her skin on the path. She rubs her nose over. The moss of fallen logs. Bit by bit, she exposes. In dead pine straw,. Then curl up, unseen,.

8220;The crown of literature is poetry. Wednesday, August 6, 2014. This to the sky -. Is no more or less. Wednesday, March 13, 2013. To be close to my mother. The days long and gray. That ran along the river. On top of the hill.

She used to take long walks. She used to have small talks. She used to dress her dolls. And brush their golden curls. She used to dream all day. She used to dance all night. She used to let time fly. C i t a d e l a. S i b i a n ă. Crostini cu pui si branza de capra.

Monday, June 6, 2011. Let the words speak for themselves. Of course, it does not help that I have, by choice, no internet at home. When love and labor occupy my days,. I fear it is my poetry that pays. Tuesday, May 31, 2011. But then, I suppose I know the cause of that. Beneath the cedar and the stars. Aligning in the evening sky -. Old Sirius and rusty Mars -. Reposes both my home and I. Monday, May 16, 2.

When I was young, I watched my mother hurrying, shuffling, getting her two children up and ready for school, getting her mother in law and husband food, getting dressed, and getting out and about to catch an overcrowded Mumbai bus to work. So it is nice to have another memory one of Amma drinking her. She never complained but I remember her face lined with worry and haste and kindness and love all at once.

Sunday, March 28, 2010. Just for them stewpid stories. HERE! Just for them stewpid stories. HERE! Monday, March 22, 2010. Roads, faces and skies, never forgotten. As I left, they saw me out to the door.