Sheila Petre: Photographs of Abandoned Chapels
as seen in Plough magazine, Spring 2026, “After Religion”
Behind the pews, two mice in earthen hues
Continue reading . . . “Sheila Petre: Photographs of Abandoned Chapels”
Let these days carve within me grooves where Your
voice slips through, humming. May each day that comes
limping through loss, bearing a thousand tiny
sorrows, march slowly to their distant drums
Continue reading . . . “Lori Hershberger: Rhythms”
Pete Kauffman: In the Company of Death
I used to come down here when I had questions to ask, life to confront. Now, I take my prize volumes of philosophy and use them as coasters for my coffee mug. Continue reading . . . “Pete Kauffman: In the Company of Death”
Vaschel Miller: Picking up Acorns
One Friday morning I saw
That each cap was crossed
By lines and lines and lines which
Were wrinkled by other lines
Continue reading . . . “Vaschel Miller: Picking up Acorns”
Richard Stoltzfoos: The Wild and Hairy Aliens
The wild and hairy aliens with crescents lifted high
Rushed at us from their saucers parked beneath the charcoal sky,
And we the humans, white as chalk, Continue reading . . . “Richard Stoltzfoos: The Wild and Hairy Aliens”
Sarah J. Martin: I Love the Way the Light
The way the light lies on the leaves,
The way the leaves long for the light;
Existence spread to catch bright gleams,
To drip it to the forest floor
Continue reading . . . “Sarah J. Martin: I Love the Way the Light”
Lori Hershberger: Mercies of the Dust
The ash has settled thick upon the fields;
The latest harvest’s charred and parched remains
Lie witness to the season’s bygone yields,
The dormant thirsting for the summer rains.
Continue reading . . . “Lori Hershberger: Mercies of the Dust”
Phoebe Anthus: Everywhere the Un-Shy Flowers
Everywhere the un-shy flowers
open towards the sun,
unlike we who gravitate towards grey.
Continue reading . . . “Phoebe Anthus: Everywhere the Un-Shy Flowers”
Marlene Brubacher: Not One Word Hath Failed
Surely you will never
Slip from sight, surely never
Fall down a crack unseen,
Continue reading . . . “Marlene Brubacher: Not One Word Hath Failed”
tonight, we attended a quiet instruction class
taken from Genesis One, the Creation,
with our son and his fellow students, a dozen,
in the basement of our private church school;
Continue reading . . . “Sheila Petre: Because”
Phoebe Anthus: Of Deconstruction
He who is never shaken by questions,
invites honesty, dismantling
the worn scaffolding that once held
my everything.
Continue reading . . . “Phoebe Anthus: Of Deconstruction”
Vaschel Miller: I saw mercy jumping like a frog
I saw mercy jumping
like a frog into muddy water;
Continue reading . . . “Vaschel Miller: I saw mercy jumping like a frog”
Hannah K: The Man Behind the Makeup
“Daddy, I can’t see you like that. You’re too scary.”
Emma and Leo crowded around their mother, who held the phone so that their dad could see their wide-eyed expressions. Across the room, I gathered my sweater and purse as I prepared to leave. On the other end of the video call, I heard Robbie chuckle. Continue reading . . . “Hannah K: The Man Behind the Makeup”
Sarah J. Martin: Pine Needles Are Prayers
When I say I prayed this morning,
I mean that I swayed on the swing and studied
The pine trees in front of me
And thought about prayer.
Continue reading . . . “Sarah J. Martin: Pine Needles Are Prayers”
This room has never been my home,
You call me, I will leave.
The problems that I have not solved
Continue reading . . . “Bryan Snyder: You Call Me”
Richard Stoltzfoos: On the Content of Poetry
Write more poems about plants.
The potted kind, yes, but also thickets and forests, and trees
Of definite kinds—the tulip poplar could,
Continue reading . . . “Richard Stoltzfoos: On the Content of Poetry”
My friend’s mother told her,
You will not grow old. Christ will return before
You are trundled up the ramp of a nursing home.
I smiled when I heard. How many are told
Continue reading . . . “Sheila Petre: Once in the End”
Oftentimes off-hand across the gray
Of gloom a memory of a summer day
Inside our country produce stand unwinds,
A day that rhymes with all the days before
Continue reading . . . “Bryan Snyder: Gladness”
Birches branch through phantom roofs above the cracked foundations
Where moss makes patient conquest of the ruins of our creations,
Continue reading . . . “Emily Gingrich: Ghost Town”
“The day is yours, and yours also the night;” Psalms 74:16
At three a.m., the world is crystalized in silence. Even the coyotes are silent, their keening cry absent from the windless prairie. What little sounds there are echo with a clarity that only the stillness of night can conjure. Continue reading . . . “Lori Hershberger: Night”
