An Alligator Dreams of Heaven
July 2, 2019
Cumulus alligator drowses in the lake of the summer sky – dreaming of wings to fly by
Author: Jill Madden Melchoir
Poet, cyclist, mother, lawyer, daughter, nature-lover, wife, photographer. Fan of Yeats, John Irving, Margaret Atwood, Wes Anderson, the Impressionists, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Martin Luther, Jesus. Not in that order.
The Nest (Or, a Father Considers the Odds of Raising Successful Small-Mouth Bass Offspring)
June 24, 2019
That afternoon at the cabin we sat by the river after I had cut up those small trees that you dropped at my feet with the tractor – (an offering, a challenge, one that I tore through haphazardly with the new chainsaw, black and yellow like a drunken, terrible bumblebee). It was quiet after all … More The Nest (Or, a Father Considers the Odds of Raising Successful Small-Mouth Bass Offspring)
NPR Asked for Summer Haiku
June 19, 2019
I. Shady Lane barefoot at twilight we play Ghosts in the Graveyard vanishing in dark II. Rook cards slap on the porch after-dinner Manhattans kids drunk with freedom III. Beckoning June is ever-dusk fireflies wink in gangly grass as I pedal home
Falling Stars
June 3, 2019
Outside in the drizzle of spring, green, green is the grass – lilacs are tiny purple fists waiting to unfold to again welcome May – once more trotting out its new beginning- with sweet applause; Inside, the window is cracked because of the paint, and you, at the far end of 16, stand without a … More Falling Stars
When They Finally Wake in April
April 18, 2019
‘Round the ankles of the birches autumn water gathered, murky – winter held it down til frozen cradled gently in the hollows – skirts of ice surround the low limbs stopped mid-fling by frigid wind embroidered not in poodle, plaid, suspended there, upended, glad – wee peeping frogs, asleep, adorn a petticoat of moss and … More When They Finally Wake in April
Centrifugal Force
March 10, 2019
In the beginning the boys and their sleds and half-size snowboards would pile in on a snow day, headed for the Suamico Elementary School hill; They were puppies, interchangeable, laughing, careening down the hill over and over – later they’d play Minecraft, fighting zombies in the dark, building houses close together for protection – in a … More Centrifugal Force
Vire-en-Champagne, April 1919
February 18, 2019
Two months shy of a century ago, it’s been raining in France, great sheets snapping like sodden flags across the farmer’s field – And my grandfather’s father, a child of German immigrants, sits down in soldier’s boots, and looking at the crops with a farmer’s eye, writes a few lines to his brother in Barnesville, … More Vire-en-Champagne, April 1919
Three Fields along Highway 42
February 4, 2019
i. The broad face of the February field is tilted to the falling snow – broken cornstalk stubble waiting for the razored plow. ii. The snow, the field, the fog rolling in waves off of the lake, a blank page. The split rail fence, the bare trees, the broken barns, black parentheses. iii. Beyond the … More Three Fields along Highway 42
The Jade Rabbit 2 Tells Me My Fortune
January 6, 2019
i. I came to Earth in the Summer of Love, September 1969, just after Apollo 11 carried Neil and Buzz to the proper side of the moon, (the one she’s shown to us from the start). They left bootprints all across her face. This morning, almost as an afterthought, NPR tells me that the … More The Jade Rabbit 2 Tells Me My Fortune
He Defends Gene Edited Babies
December 18, 2018
Lulu and Nana are drafts; edited before they are published, in secret, He is bent over translucent twins in a cabin by the fire while snow skims the sky outside, He takes his red pen and his scissors named CRISPR and he snips their DNA here and then there like a gloved boxer making … More He Defends Gene Edited Babies
Halfway North 