Poetry and Other Reflections on Summer Camp BY JERRY WITKOVSKY  Nothing like aging to spawn reveries on the meaning of life. Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful to

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The Old Woman And Me BY KAREN BARASH Side by side, we walk the slow solicitous stroll of the very old. She wears sensible shoes; vanity no longer pinches her

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The Grandkids are Gone BY KATE CARPENTER The grandkids are gone There’s holes in the yard The floor needs a mop And I am so “tard.” The grandkids are gone

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By Emer Martin RESIST What have we done? We fear a ludicrous man— a liar barking insults deafening dreams, his tiny heart squeezed dry, a blind crafty rat stumbling a maze

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