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Poetry Corner

How Fulton Got Its Name

by Jim Farfaglia How Fulton Got Its Name   They say he was a dreamer; that, as a child, he loved to sketch, he loved to tinker, and they say he loved the water…   which would have made him right at home, here, with our river and lake and their quiet spots to sit(…)

Snow Day

by Jim Farfaglia Snow Day   Back then, you found out from the radio – the DJ reading school after school, your ear leaning into his voice, listening to that long list.   And even after your school is called, you keep the radio on, just to hear your good luck over and over again,(…)

Remembering Card Games

by Jim Farfaglia Remembering Card Games   They brightened many a boring evening: someone would pull out a deck, explain the rules and, after a few hands, friendships would be melded.   A good shuffler made a big impression: the most talented ones were also the most envied – they could make a deck just(…)


 by Jim Farfaglia  Light-Hearted   For now, sweet cardinal, so red and sprightly, you will be my light.   These days the world is heavy, drowsy from the darkness and frozen in winter’s clutch.   But each morning, you come to perch on my evergreen, awaiting your turn at the feeder.   Oh, how your(…)


by Jim Farfaglia Snowprints   Some look like backcountry roads – like someone woke from a long winter’s nap and, with their belly, plowed a new trail.   Some look like fine stitching – like some worried mother’s busywork, sewing her child a safe way home.   Some look like quotation marks – like someone(…)

Sky Magic

by Jim Farfaglia   It’s still a miracle to look up and see a flock of birds dancing their traveling dance: thirty or more darting and swooping, as if they were one – as if we were all one.   It’s still a miracle to look up and feel the cold January air swooping in(…)

On Either Side

by Jim Farfaglia   Yesterday, in the middle of the lake, they bobbed over gentle ripples, riding atop reflections on the last day of the year.   Everybody was honking at once, gossiping about the year’s triumphs, of love gone north or south, of those who took their final flight…   Today, as dawn breaks,(…)

December 31st

by Jim Farfaglia The days of our year have been collected, each placed in a sack we have labeled 2012. This bag has grown fat – filled with April’s blossoms, August’s dog days, October’s tumble-leaves. Now, near the year’s end, time slows to a standstill, the sack offering one last chance to remember and reflect…(…)

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