On the Cusp of Spring

On the Cusp of Spring

On the Cusp of Spring

A Poem by Holly Day

       When I was a child, my mother had me searching for magic
behind every forest tree, taught me to look underneath bracket mushrooms
for evidence of fairy campsites, inside the gaping hollows of oak trees
for secret passageways to other worlds. I was so determined to find a way
into the land of fairies that I’d seek out forbidden spots
mushroom rings and the piney caverns under the canopies of fir trees
sit in the exact middle with my eyes closed tight, arms wrapped around my knees
determined I’d wake up somewhere else. Even now, I get a little thrill
when I see a cluster of mushrooms sprouting in a circle in my yard.


        When my children visit my mother, they come home
with half-built fairy castles and stories about hearing rabbits talking at night
foxes coming up to the window to steal their dreams, the shape-sifting abilities
of cats and dogs at midnight. Sometimes, my mother asks me in aside
if I mind her telling the same stories to my children that she told me
seems amazed that they actually believe
the strange things she says, just like I did.

A Long-Standing Jape

A Long-Standing Jape

"You're Going to Like Me" - NYMBM Talks with Adam Rippon

"You're Going to Like Me" - NYMBM Talks with Adam Rippon