Have you received your 2020 Kansas Authors Club Yearbook?  Some members did not want the paper yearbook, but if you indicated a preference for paper, those have been sent.  Please comment to this site Yes or No, and a comment about the condition of the packaging and book on arrival. Thank you.
    This poll will also help me know how many of you actually check the blog.  
        Our "read around", see earlier postings below, is still going on, and I welcome submissions.  

Connie Rae White,  D5 President

Roll up the dark sky,
tight, like a night shade.
For it is void of stars
and any wishes made.
 
All the stars fell from the heavens.
Their dusky glow stains the floor.
They litter the room,
they block the door.
 
Sweep up the stars.
Stack them end on end.
Pile them in the corner
to light my empty den.
 

​It is three o’clock, the roundest of hours, when night curls itself against the chill and only the faintest pinpricks of light puncture the holy darkness. A scattering of frail and lonely streetlights perform their sentry duty on the bridge beneath my balcony. One apartment shines in this otherwise shuttered apartment building that leans over the river, its occupants hidden and anonymous. I am intrigued by that one small light shimmering against the negation of everything.
In this terrorized world where everyone is afraid of tomorrow, I am not alone.
I make my ghost walk window to window in search of a star, shooting or stable, that might be watching over us. It is two and a half months into quarantine and I have grown strangely contented in my solitude. It tastes of red wine so dry it pulls my mouth. It smells sour, of spring denied its blooms, of April aborted.
The night is silent and chill as the bodies that fill the morgues, the ice rinks, the refrigerated trucks. It is dark and hollow like their coffins, like this city, this night. I want to walk into it, to fill its vacuum with me, to feel the river lap my calves and rise to my hips. I want to walk until I am covered, enclosed in its soft shroud that holds at bay the dawn and its questions. Perhaps, if I could reach them without choking for breath, lungs calcified, without suffocation, I would join them, those dead-too-soon. Especially now when dark has arched from mountain to mountain, and lets me stand within its gigantic, impervious sphere.
I do not move. I don’t want to miss the pulling back of the heavy velvet curtain for the last act.It is three o’clock, the roundest of hours, when night curls itself against the chill and only the faintest pinpricks of light puncture the holy darkness. A scattering of frail and lonely streetlights perform their sentry duty on the bridge beneath my balcony. One apartment shines in this otherwise shuttered apartment building that leans over the river, its occupants hidden and anonymous. I am intrigued by that one small light shimmering against the negation of everything.

In this terrorized world where everyone is afraid of tomorrow, I am not alone.
I make my ghost walk window to window in search of a star, shooting or stable, that might be watching over us. It is two and a half months into quarantine and I have grown strangely contented in my solitude. It tastes of red wine so dry it pulls my mouth. It smells sour, of spring denied its blooms, of April aborted.
The night is silent and chill as the bodies that fill the morgues, the ice rinks, the refrigerated trucks. It is dark and hollow like their coffins, like this city, this night. I want to walk into it, to fill its vacuum with me, to feel the river lap my calves and rise to my hips. I want to walk until I am covered, enclosed in its soft shroud that holds at bay the dawn and its questions. Perhaps, if I could reach them without choking for breath, lungs calcified, without suffocation, I would join them, those dead-too-soon. Especially now when dark has arched from mountain to mountain, and lets me stand within its gigantic, impervious sphere.
I do not move. I don’t want to miss the pulling back of the heavy velvet curtain for the last act.

from high plateaus,
roving wheatfields, wind
that blows from all directions-sometimes, all at once.

I am from dirt mixed
with blood, memories
unreachable, unthinkable,
unmistakable human fragility
and strengths cannoned
into one being.

I am from the smell of oil
caked dirt, acrid cattle shit,
snow so fresh the land devours
it in giant gulps that spew
forth mist, inhaled, leaving
lungs frostbitten, minds
yearning, listing toward
spring thaw.

I am from creek beds
layered with dinosaur bones,
fossilized cottonwood seeds,
corn tassels, Cheyenne Indian
arrowheads, hope.

I am come come come to being,
a part of this place
that birthed me
into this time
where fibers of my insides
carry cells regenerated
regenerating
by generations of eating
dirt in all its glorious forms.

I find I am

​I am the mother of a shattered son,
A caregiver who can never be reciprocated.
The mother of a forever child.
 
I grieve the loss of our former conversations
When he thought deeply, assessing the potentials of his future.
I grieve the loss of his independence and his need, now,
For someone to remind him of days, dates, and where he has placed his possessions.
 
I am the proud mother of a man who cares for others.
Though his resources are small, he will do anything he can to help.
He sees himself as shattered, and thus will work to fix every broken thing he finds.
Surely, nothing is truly beyond repair and usefulness.
 
Lord, when I am overwhelmed with the grief of our losses,
Help me remember the relief at knowing he would live.
Help me remember the joy of his regained independence, small though it is.
Help me remember that in THIS son, I am truly blessed.

This is a continuing invitation to any member of Kansas Authors Club to submit a poem or prose, any genre, maximum 500 words to our Covid-19 Quarantine Read-Around.  Send your submission as an e-mail attachment to Connie Rae White, D5 President, and she will post it here for comments. Let's stay connected while we are staying at home.

Congratulations to Susan Howell, D5, and Bill Hill, on their marriage at Larksfield Place on March 12, 2020.  They had been planning an April wedding when the Covid-19 lock down of the facility "ruined" their plans.Copy and paste the link to see Susan' s story of their solution in the Active Age, where she is a contributor and staff member. 
https://theactiveage.com/restricted-access-cant-stop-wedding-bells-2-2/ .We wish Mr. and Mrs. Hill a wonderful life, and look forward to congratulating them in person when this quarantine thing is finished!

1.
Angels with gossamer wings
flit heavenward
like bees nuzzling roses
for honeyed perfume.
I watch the angels flutter
higher and higher until
they grow smaller and smaller.
One of them looks back and says,
"You, too, will fly when the sinking
day darkens; when the moon
circles the Earth one last time."

2.
I think how I must free myself
from gravity, from finitude,
from time. The serious day
darkens. I watch it wriggle
into the sea, as infinite
as the sky, it seems, but a richer
shade of blue. The roses
eject the bees; their transparent
perfume wafts over me
like a mystical atomizer; particles
splaying my face, bathing my eyes.

3.
Beyond the sky, in ethereal Elysium,
the Immortals dwell. I gather my life
and cast it at their translucent feet.
They answer only in Greek riddles.
Oedipus wanders among them.
I am as blind as he, sinking into
a sea of shadows. Like a feathered
coral reef, wings waver over
the ocean floor. When the sated
day darkens, they will alight
on my back like petals on a rose.

On-line Read Around
 
   We are continuing our ongoing writing challenge as we all stay at home because of the Covid-19 pandemic. Here are the rules:

• 500-word limit, any genre.
• E-mail your entry as an attachment to Connie Rae White (craepa@cox.net).
• I will post the entries to this District 5 News and Events page for the read around.
• If readers wish to comment, please do so below the entry. (This posting is new to me, so let me know if you have problems.)
• Please keep comments kind. Sometimes one might have to "step on toes," but remember that we are all feeling stressed in the current situation.

So, come on authors, get the juices flowing. Now that I've learned how to post, send me your stories for the benefit of all of us.

​~ Connie White, President, KAC District 5

MacKenna March was window shopping, thinking about her next science fiction novel she wanted to write. She stopped in front of Horatio's Hamlet staring at the shop's
mechanical, fortune-telling gypsy. Walking in front of it, the gypsy's voice was activated. "Madam Zola tell your fortune McKenna March."

Curious, she put in a quarter, and the gypsy spit out a key tied to the fortune. Mac unfolded the paper and read, "Feed the ducks at the park. Find the gate to set you free
but first an astrolabe in Horatio's Hamlet will show your way. Use them both in this philosophy."

Hurrying into the store, she said to the clerk, "I'm here to buy an astrolabe."

"One just came in today. It's $15."

"Sold." Paying cash, she jogged to the park. Mac sat on a park bench by the pond, next to two lovebirds and examined the astrolabe. Leaning over its fence McKenna
said, "Whaddya think you two? I don't see any gate." Astonished, she watched the two swans turn, making a beeline around the bend.Following them, she stopped short. "Oh my God, it's the gate!" Whipping out her fortune, she inserted the key. The gate swung open revealing an old man in robe, pointy hat, white hair and beard.
​
"Welcome Miss March. I see you came with an astrolabe."

"Holy Mother of God! Okay Gandalf, I'll play. What are you, some kind of this game's gatekeeper?"

"Something like. I am a twelve-pointed star."

"No way! You're messing with me."

"Would you like to see what I am?"

"You betcha your white beard I would."

"Stand back McKenna," and with that the old man blinked into a star so brilliant she had to shield her eyes. It twinkled for a short while before reappearing in his
Gandalf form. "I am a Celestial, Multi-Dimensional Star."

"Of course you are," playing along. "How'd you do that anyway?"

"I could give you the celestial mathematics, but they're not You're probably wondering what you can do with your astrolabe?"

"Good guess Gandalf."

"It is a special, ancient mariner's navigational tool." Taking it from her hand, he said, "It is a Celestial, Multi-Dimensional, Multi-Universe Astrolabe, but you can call
it what ever you want."

"How about R2-D2? How's this thing supposed to work?"

" On the back of your Celestial Astrolabe is a rotating bar that identifies the location and altitude of dimensions and  universes. Press it twice."

She did so and at once felt herself spiraling through the stars before returning ."Man, that was one radical ride!"
It's up to you now. Just think where you want to go or what you would like to
explore. Your astrolabe will take you."
"Why me Gandalf?"
"Would you believe, I want to be in your next book?" Winking, he disappeared.
​
Sitting on the bench, holding it in her hands, she pressed the bar and said, "Okay R2-D2, let's go for a spin!"

​

On-line Read Around
 
   We are continuing our ongoing writing challenge as we all stay at home because of the Covid-19 pandemic. Here are the rules:

• 500-word limit, any genre.
• E-mail your entry as an attachment to Connie Rae White (craepa@cox.net).
• I will post the entries to this District 5 News and Events page for the read around.
• If readers wish to comment, please do so below the entry. (This posting is new to me, so let me know if you have problems.)
• Please keep comments kind. Sometimes one might have to "step on toes," but remember that we are all feeling stressed in the current situation.

So, come on authors, get the juices flowing. Now that I've learned how to post, send me your stories for the benefit of all of us.

​~ Connie White, President, KAC District 5

He rises at six to go to the grocery store,
hopes he will be early enough in the morning
to stock up on necessities. You know--
the usual. Toilet paper, paper towels
frozen vegetables. He forgot fresh green beans,
will get them next time. The dog will whine
and bark if he leaves her at home. I’m still asleep.
There a crowd jostles for products. He tries to keep
the recommended safe distance, backs away,
does the two step, glowers at those who invade
his space. He checks out, stows his bag in the car.
The dog wags her tail in joy. He has sprayed car doors
and his gloves with his homemade disinfectant,
drives home hoping he has left behind what
the pushing crowd may be carrying, a new hell.
I wake up, find chocolate cookies on the shelf.
 
Diane Wahto

On-line Read Around
 
The previous post of 3/23/2020 announced an on-line read around for this site beginning March 30, which is today.  I have received two entries, posted below.  This will be an ongoing challenge as we all “stay home” because of the Covid-19 pandemic. Here are the rules:

• 500-word limit, any genre.
• E-mail your entry as an attachment to Connie Rae White (craepa@cox.net).
• I will post the entries to this District 5 News and Events page for the read around.
• If readers wish to comment, please email the author personally. Comments should not be addressed to the District 5 site. If you would like your comment posted, CC Connie Rae on your comment, and I may consider posting an occasional valuable or interesting comment.

So, come on authors, get the juices flowing. Consider the first two entries below and kindly let the authors know your comments. Let’s build our community in this time of isolation.

​~ Connie White, President, KAC District 5

Don drove into the busy Walmart parking lot at 9:30 at night. He realized the news on television today had it right. The public is panicked in fear of shortages of medicines and even food. They are quarantined from work, from school - The government itself is panicked.

Don slammed his brakes nearly hitting an old man desperately shoving his cart to escape.

After parking, Don put his protective face mask on, then his glasses and latex gloves that were left over from his dental practice when he retired.  

Walking toward the entrance, Don noticed two high school girls approaching him as they stared at his protective garb. They then veered away starting to giggle.

Once inside he was startled so see all bread, eggs and toilet paper were gone. He hustled throughout the store buying what was still available.

At the checkout, Don patiently waited behind three boisterous, young-motorcycle-bikers. The large leader sneered at Don and yelled, “Hey old man! Don’t you know powdered donuts will rot your teeth?”

The hulk of a leader turned and got up in Don’s face, “Maybe I should take those donuts away from you!”

Don set his jaw and leaned forward with fierce eyes to meet the biker’s startled face, “Maybe instead, you should call your mother. I bet you haven’t been a man and told her that you love her want to help her so she won’t need to be afraid.”

Caught off guard, the biker stepped back just as a muscular black Walmart employee stepped in between Don and the biker. Good evening Dr. Marler...Please allow me to check you out so that you can be on your way. These gentlemen won’t mind.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Barker.”

The gang members silently stepped to the side and watched Dr. Marler being checked out. Then Lieutenant Barker pushed Dr. Marler’s cart outside.

Crossing the parking lot, Lieutenant Barker said, “Judy told me while I was in Afghanistan on active duty, you were caring for my family’s teeth. You let her pay whenever she could. I explained to her that you were a Marine too.”

Dr. Marler nodded.

​Lieutenant Barker continued, “I wanted to thank you in person, Sir. Semper Fi!”

On-line Read Around

The previous post of 3/23/2020 announced an on-line read around for this site beginning March 30, which is today.  I have received two entries, posted below.  This will be an ongoing challenge as we all “stay home” because of the Covid-19 pandemic. Here are the rules:

• 500-word limit, any genre.
• E-mail your entry as an attachment to Connie Rae White (craepa@cox.net).
• I will post the entries to this District 5 News and Events page for the read around.
• If readers wish to comment, please email the author personally. Comments should not be addressed to the District 5 site. If you would like your comment posted, CC Connie Rae on your comment, and I may consider posting an occasional valuable or interesting comment.

So, come on authors, get the juices flowing. Consider the first two entries below and kindly let the authors know your comments. Let’s build our community in this time of isolation.

​~ Connie White, President, KAC District 5