In Laura’s Words
I write to shine a light on a dim or otherwise pitch black corner…to provide relief for myself and others. It’s the light that I am looking for. And the wonder it illuminates.
May my words land in your heart.
yours, Laura
Break Me In, Montana
Break Me in, Montana by Laura A. Munson I begged for this. This house. This land. This time. This husband and these children. I begged to know a place season for season. To use last summer’s spent perennials as winter mulch. To rake it off when the Lenten roses poke...
My Lover, LA
My Lover, LA by Laura A. Munson I love my children. I love my husband. I love my mother and deceased father. Sister and brother. Every person on my Christmas card list. Two dogs, two horses, cat, and pet rat—love ‘em all. I love Montana too—my twenty acres and the...
Mother Bear at the Plaza
Mother Bear at the Plaza by Laura A. Munson I was reared for walking in and out of places like New York’s Plaza Hotel. But I live in Montana now and sometimes I forget how to be that girl. That girl having her first tea at the Palm Court in low riding white tights and...
The Pack Rat Ate My Patagonia
The Pack Rat Ate my Patagonia by Laura A. Munson I have never wanted to kill something before. Trap it live, and then shoot it. Or drown it in a glacially chilled grave. That thing—with the pretty little well-appointed pink nest, with its self-important aroma and...
Spring-blind
Spring-blind by Laura A. Munson I have not noticed spring like this before. Perhaps this owes to the fact that this spring has been a long one—two years, more or less. It began with the Snow Geese migration last April which I drove five hundred miles round trip in one...
The Moral of the Morel
Originally published in "The Sun" literary journal Now Booking our 2016 Fall Haven Writing Retreats! September 7-11 (full) / September 21-25 (one space) / October 5-9 (still room) / October 19-23 (still room) The year before I moved to Montana, a guy shot another guy...
Inheritance
Inheritance by Laura A. Munson When life is long, we take off our gold bracelets and put them into the back of a low drawer. When life is long, we move far away from that drawer. We curse the drawer. We curse the bondage of gold bracelets, the parents who bought them...
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