Daniel Rattelle

“But are they sad?” I overheard her say.No more than fiveUp North with mum for the August bank holiday.I saw what she meant. They hardly seemed aliveCompared with, overhead, the flock of geeseThat flew with everything they had toward FranceOr Spain. All of a sudden, all eyes went skyward.But . . . . Continue Reading »

The tang of juniper, the dew-wet grassThat grabs your ankles, apples for the taking.The haze between the hills like smoke at Mass.        The trees; His stretched arms aching. The flickering lamps, the fire, the curtains shut.We’ll watch TV, we’ll get the breakfast baking.We . . . . Continue Reading »

Joshua Hren's new collection of stories, This Our Exile, presents an authentically Catholic fiction. Continue Reading »