Elizabeth McBride


Plucking reedy notes around the pond, the bullfrogs sound the song of evening, calling back the afternoon from the cattails’ close warm breath above the cool that now makes room for dark to seep between the leaves among the stalks into the night.


It is the sinew strung between rising and falling that yields flight; the interplay of muscle, feather, air that holds the fan-tailed hawk still in the breeze. Even the strongest wings rely on the same nothingness for lift and pull, as we, who trust the tension between breaths to keep us safely tethered hovering, rejoicing… Read more »

After The Storm

The stillness fills with all the sounds that were covered by the wind: the slow trickle of water seeping between roots gathering, dripping from leaves, the celebration songs of frogs in the field, the lilting call of the robin in the darkness, and the massive silence of the skies still flowing with patches of black… Read more »

Elizabeth McBride

Elizabeth McBride writes from Grand Ledge, Michigan. Her poetry has appeared in Dunes Review, Red River Review, Third Wednesday, Seeding the Snow, Scintilla, Poetry Breakfast, and the SCBWI-MI Bulletin. She is a Fellow of the National Writing Project, an Affiliate of Amherst Writers and Artists, and is deeply appreciative of the teaching and insight that… Read more »