Poetry Geology Theology by Susan Whelehan We humus-honed flesh-toned matte-finished mortals dwell on the dome of a miracle: a sparkling and…
Poetry Bounty by Susan Whelehan The tossed salad at our Soup Kitchen starts with lettuce from the Community Garden, planted…
Poetry Autumn by Susan Whelehan Autumn. What is that silent “n” all about anyway? It should be dropped quietly, like…
Poetry Ode to the Onion by Susan Whelehan I open the front door and walk headlong into the oh so heavenly scent of…
