FICTION
 

• A Letter to Henry David Thoreau by Roger L. Whittlesey
 
One hundred and fifty years ago, horses drew large sleds along this road, sleds loaded with ice blocks nestled in hay and sprinkled with the sweat of the Irish ice cutters. Perhaps, if I opened the car window I might still smell the frozen hay, the sweat of my forefathers.

• Plenty by E.B. Vandiver
 
He turns off the main highway and begins to follow the levee road. Tiny matchstick-legged houses, the same holocaust grey as the oaks a few miles back, stand back by just a stretch of twenty feet or less, naked and sorry as ditches.

• A Thousand Words by John M. Floyd
 
Catherine Munsen was less than thrilled about her job. In fact, until the day she met Frank Goodman, she thought it was downright boring.
 

POETRY
 

• How to Write About Nature by Allen Hope
 
I will write of their death in the order of their dying.

ESSAYS
 

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