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Sandford Lyne

Author

The Invention of Dragons

Nothing exists. Yet, in the old photograph, father and son— looking miserable in the task of their beauty and love. They are standing in the new snowfall in the backyard, between them a snowman they have just made, a frozen, half-grinning trio. Tak [...]

Separation: November

A salty snow is falling, softly, softly, as in my childhood, but where?— It's me standing on a corner, waiting for the bus. A windy gate. A month before I knew I was to leave, my daughter, fingering the subject of attachments, said to me, "Daddy, I [...]

Praise

A leaf falls, and a door opens that is made of stone. —Sara Kidder-Lyne (1972—1990) Such soft winds carry the small, pale leaves of the persimmon tree slantwise across the open field. Slowly they ride out to their most common resting places, a [...]

The Tadpole Pool

It was a tiny pool in the swampwoods that filled in springtime near the thickened, hanging vines where, on summer days, we'd fly like Tarzan! In the center was a stump, a charcoal fort, toward which we aimed, unsteadily, a walk of rotten boards. Each [...]

Armadillo

Fort Morgan, Alabama Vetoed sheriff of the swamp, armadillo, peapod rhinoceros, wounded little ego by the side of the road, impasse—in God's quilted kingdom— between the possum and the turtle, bony mist-blossom ghosting in neglected grass, napp [...]