With relish, rainpour pools in our dead-end dirt road. We, David from across the street and me, sit in that puddle like it’s a lakeside resort. Our little buns caked in mud. Drawers soaked and drooping with glee. Our moms, lounging on aluminum chairs woven with green and blue stripes, pass the time smoking Viceroys and drinking black coffee.
Kathy Whitham, an active member of the Boston writing community and a Parenting Coach for non-traditional families, gives voice, through her poetry, to the myriad forms of human connection. For bedtime stories, her dad taught her about atoms and introduced her to poetry. She recently finalized a chapbook collection, “Drawing The Big Dipper.”
