Beth Hartley

dressed in wing and feather; a rustling and chirping when evening starts to fall. And if I stand quite still, not moving any muscle, I will remain a pillar of birds.

Nothing ruffled, no feathers fluttered; a night’s rest where I stand.

So many species, I started learning names: Robin, Sparrow, Chaffinch, Wagtail, a fledging sense of great self-doubt. As time has passed and perches fill, the birds that visit, bigger still: Blackbird, Starling, Raven, Crow, aggravation, anxiety and loathing now.

If I move I will scatter wings to the wind; become surrounded by a nest of noise. Never mind what’s left behind; the litter of a hundred little lives. Some will screech and others sing, I’m not sure I can remain so unstirring for much longer.

Sarah Oba

Underneath It All

The second instalment from Sarah’s heart-warming childhood memoir.

As soon as school was dismissed at York Elementary, I exited the front entrance with its massive white columns, descended the stairs, and walked on the sidewalk in the direction of Divine Savior Hospital. The jingle ‘Step on a crack, break your mother’s back’ danced