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Rescuing Bare Twigs Small twigs—finger-like on a thin maple branch poke out beckoning me from the snowbank I made by shoveling our sidewalk this morning. What tree spirit have I consigned to that cold, cold place? The twigs seem to move plead for help. I extricate these fragile bits of tree blown down by the snowstorm’s wind, then buried by me. Once inside, I arrange these two slim, elegant pieces, in a vase on a sunny windowsill. It’s not likely even sun and warmth will be enough to sprout the leaf buds lines I spot along the twigs, but at least they know I appreciate all their beauty -- bent bare branch and its fine, elegant twig fingers. Joan Leotta Joan Leotta plays with words on page and stage. She’s been published as essayist, poet, short story writer, novelist, and is a nominee for Pushcart and Best of the Net. Her poetry, essays, and stories have appeared in many journals in the US and abroad, including Lothlorien, One Art, Gargoyle, Verse Virtual, and Storyteller Poetry. She performs folktale programs most often highlighting her heritage, food, family, and strong women, and offers the one-woman show, “Meet Louisa May Alcott, Author, Nurse and Writer.”
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March 2026
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