A sense of shame is missing in the world today. If you find it, burp Donal Mahoney

Harvey at 80 is losing his hearing. He can’t hear his wife when she talks, a symphony lost.

They’ve been here for years two blue jays who live in our yard year round. In winter they’re silent at the feeder but screeching

I was very small the day they bombed Pearl Harbor but I remember my mother dashing around the kitchen saying nothing to me

The Nazis call her Hilda, this ancient woman who makes a simple living in a bathroom in Berlin giving high colonics

We write the stories of our lives between the bookends of birth and death They stay on the shelf

Young Tim goes to Zaire to write his dissertation in African Studies. While there he meets and marries a beautiful librarian

If America is lucky it might still happen. That lawsuit about the university accused of bilking students might go to trial and the accused

We’re troubled by the very rich we see only on TV and worry about the poor who sleep at night in doorways and in parks, the trul… with little more than the clothes…

A boy, maybe 5, dancing in the candy aisle of a megastore at 6 a.m., a month before Hallowee… is overjoyed by the harvest on every shelf, his caramel skin

It’s just a flophouse but it’s all he can afford and now it’s come to this. If he buys food he can’t pay the rent

They moved in on Sunday, a bright and sunny day, the first black family on the bloc… They drove up in two U-Hauls and slowly carried furniture

A spindly young fawn wanders away from its doe. Coyotes must eat. Donal Mahoney

An odd bobcat my father was looked more like a Siamese asleep in his recliner