Spiders in the sky
chasing the wind on silk strings
become lost in trees.

A. M. Yeager


My daughter is obsessed with the moon. Every time she’s outside no matter if the moon is up or not, she insists on finding it. I’ve been taking photos of the moon for her, and she loves them! Thought I’d share a few here. The first two are of the super moon from the third.

12 3 17 full moon 2 cr
12 3 17 full moon 112 7 17 moon 1

A. M. Yeager

Lake Effect Snow

A substantial amount

the weatherman warned

get those shovels ready

but only a dusting covered the step

and not even the grass was wet.

A. M. Yeager


You have hiccups
and you kicked out of excitement
when you heard my voice singing to your sister–
when you heard Dada over speaker phone–
when your sister laughed at her own joke.
You love us
and I know you know we love you.
You love God
for you danced when I read from Scripture.
You are a person.
You are my child.
You are my baby
and I love you more than anything.

A. M. Yeager

Summer Dream

This warm light coming through the windows
reminds me of those summer days
when we used to run through fields of golden wheat
with yellow daisies clutched in our small fists
and we would collapse below that bright blue sky
and bask in the scorching sunlight filtering through the trees.

A. M. Yeager

Bunny’s Moon

She watches and waits
for the moon every time
she steps foot outside.
But tonight she can’t
find her luminous friend
So, tonight I’ll bring
you the moon, my Bunny girl,
tonight I’ll bring you the moon.

A. M. Yeager


Mouth so thin

worn out by a never resting tongue

eyes so restless

always searching for something to find

hands so jittery

constantly fluttering with that overactive mouth.

A. M. Yeager


They are whispers in the ear
a gentle kind of breeze
some sort of bizarre lullaby
swaying the mind back and forth
casting luminous silhouettes
through vivid dreams
until they pour like waterfalls
from fingertips and stain pages with ink.

A. M. Yeager

This Land

Living in a land
unfamiliar territory
stomping through fields
laden with dreams
never fully sown
wondering about
that swollen red sun
that will never show.

A. M. Yeager