*
Moondance
Song and Story
meteor
* Comets Across the Sky
(Crescent Moon) Cover
(Crescent Moon) Art
(Crescent Moon) Columns
(Crescent Moon) Fiction
(Crescent Moon) Inspirations
(Crescent Moon) Nonfiction
(Crescent Moon) Opinions
(Crescent Moon) Poetry
(Crescent Moon) Song & Story
(Crescent Moon) Cosmic Connections
(Crescent Moon) Letters to the Editor
(Crescent Moon) Awards & Webrings
(Crescent Moon) About Moondance
(Crescent Moon) Have a
Submission?
(Crescent Moon) Write to Us
A Parent by Any Name, by Linda K. Wright

I'd repeatedly asked myself if I needed to fulfill my nurturing needs through bearing a child or whether I wanted to nurture in some other way. After thinking about several factors, including a major health consideration, I'd decided not to become pregnant.


Changing the Light, by Laura Garland

I'm watching the leaves fall from the freeway decor, and I'm knowing that the light changes too fast to be caught. It filters through my window, now, and in some theatrical pattern asks me if I should even bother chasing you.


Hand in the Glove, by Cathleen O'Connor Schoultz

It's almost night, and I imagine you coming to meet me after class. I see your face and your eyes look alive. My class is on Newbury Street, in case you're interested. "What's that supposed to mean?" my husband asks.


Dance the Bharati Natyam, by Vasumathi Badrinathan

Dancing entered my life early. I did not choose, being too young then to make a conscious choice, but the liking developed, grew, became inspiration, and blossomed. Today it is a passion zealously guarded. The reasons for this are many, but primarily, dancing is invaluable food for growth.


C'mon Down, Amelia, by Dorothy Miller Ashe

Few Hobbs residents had heard of Earhart's trans-Atlantic flight earlier that year. She had been a passenger--albeit the first woman passenger over the Atlantic. But now she was piloting the first round-trip transcontinental U.S. flight by a woman, and she was in trouble.

Shadows, by Pamela Willis

At bedtime, I think of how I used to read her stories and sing her favorite songs as I tucked her in. But now she sits awkwardly in the bedroom reading chair until her father opens drawers and gets the things he needs. He says goodnight and goes into the guest room. I think of the new flowered sheets I bought for the twin bed in that room, just for her. But she never saw them. Her first night home she followed me into my bed and under my rose-covered comforter. "I can't sleep alone anymore," she whispered.


More Articles

A Parent by Any Name | Changing the Light
Hand in the Glove | Dance the Bharata Natyam
C'mon Down, Amelia | Shadows


Sections

Cover | Art | Columns | Fiction
Inspirations | Opinions | Poetry
Song & Story | Cosmic Connections
Letters to the Editor | Awards & Webrings
About Moondance | Have a Submission?
Write to Us

TO THE TOP
Copyright © 1998 Moondance: Celebrating Creative Women


Moondance logo by: Cassi Bassolino Cassi Bassolino Graphic Design