Author Archives: Smallpeace

About Smallpeace

Michele Karas is a poet, essayist, and longstanding professional copywriter, who currently works for a top-five US book publisher. Her poems and prose have appeared in literary journals, including Tinderbox, THRUSH, Alaska Quarterly Review, and Narrative magazine, among others. Michele holds a BA in Journalism from San Diego State University and an MFA in Creative Writing from CUNY, The City College of New York. Find her on Twitter @small_peace.

And Then There Was One

Last week, after 18 and a half beautiful years together, we said goodbye to our beloved cat, Cairo. It was time and he was ready, though we were not. But because we had promised to always take care of him, … Continue reading

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Winter’s Gift

Winter fights to hang on well into almost April. In the country it isn’t necessarily robins pecking at a cache of frozen apples or a sudden blast of sunshine that marks spring’s approach. It’s the sound of ice crunching underfoot. … Continue reading

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A SoCal Kind of Christmas

In San Diego International Airport, rays of sunshine blast headlong into the baggage claim area, warming our luggage on the turnstile. As we descend the elevator into main lobby, we New Yorkers can’t help but feel like vampires—the light, the … Continue reading

Posted in Beyond Smallpeace, Smallpeace | Tagged | 11 Comments

Seasonal Haiku

An indication of the hunger moon: Ivy on a fat, blue spruce.

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Thankful for the Small Things

I just love this poem by Eleanor Lerman, whose simple, declarative sentences and plainspoken tone search for the sacred in the banal. The seemingly unremarkable moments in life—a walk to the pond, pie for dessert, an unexpected encounter—are what offer … Continue reading

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Unraveling After Hours

The other night, I rolled over in my sleep and pushed one of the cats out of the bed. The thud woke me up, though it didn’t seem to bother the cat. A chilly wind was dancing around the courtyard … Continue reading

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An Uplifting Encounter

The sky over the wetlands is a hard, cold gray. The last pitted apples on the tree outside our door are hanging stubborn for now. It’s mouse season, and last night I woke up to the sound of insulation being … Continue reading

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