Pamela MacBean lives in the Great North Woods of New Hampshire on 48 acres. 
Small farm affectionately called "Go-Pher Wood Farm". 
Been published in The Midwest Poetry Review, The Aurorean, The Pine Island Journal of 
New England Poetry, Poetry Depth Quarterly, Ship of Fools, Time of Singing, 
Open Mind's Quarterly,The Blindman's Rainbow, 
Skyline Magazine upcoming in Subtletea.com, Small Brushes.  

Recently published in Adagio Verse Quarterly, Autumn Leaves, Open Minds Quarterly 
(2nd place winner in Brainstorm Contest), upcoming in Subtletea.com and Ancient Paths.  
Chapbook for sale on Foothills Publishing.com "Postscripts in Time".

 

SISTER.  SISTER.

 In another season of war
 where lessons lie buried,
 never learned,
 weariness fogged a young mind.
 Desert sand dumped
 from worn brown boots
 at the foot if army issued cot.
 Eighteen.  Short ten days.

 Drizzle tapped top of tent,
 waving, flopping in humid breeze.
 Rough, raw large hands
 held a bowed head.
 Little brown eyed girl,
 white scarf covering dark hair,
 had held his hand, laughing,
 playing ball, taking candy.
 Ten.  Smiles cut short in crossfire.

 Two birds cooed above
 within swishing palm leaves,
 as popcorn bursts of AK47's
 smoked the air,
 shedding shells
 like pink pistachios
 upon rubble strewn streets,
 around another corner,
 and another corner;
 war fretting once beautiful
 exotic Baghdad.

 Clutched a worn letter.
 "Hi brother!  Miss you!
 The puppy's so big now.
 Dad built a tree-house
 in the old maple tree.
 Mom won't let me
 get a belly shirt."