Archive for the ‘Fiction’ category


November 21, 2017


I am thankful for
The clean, fresh island air I breathe
The smooth movement of muscle
The eyes that open worlds to me
The wit to solve a puzzle
For ears that hear the song of birds
The words, sweet “I love you”
The arms that hold my loved ones tight –
Each moment spent with you.

I am thankful for
The mind to reason and research
The passion of debate
The friendly conversations
The stories we relate
The spark of creation
A boundless world view
And bold imagination –
Each moment spent with you.

I am thankful for
The morning smiles, goodnight hugs
The meals we spend together
The leisure days and cozy nights
The memories I treasure
The minutes, hours, days we share
The circle of our family
The dreams I have for tomorrow –
Each moment spent with you.


words and artwork by Rachelle Chang


Fiction: Memories of the Shore

September 6, 2016

Memories of the Shore

Memories of the Shore
By Rachelle Chang

Come sit with me a while beside the shore;
We’ll catch a thing or two before we’re done,
And meanwhile sit with the sun bright overhead.
I haven’t come for years, since I was young
And liked to sit beside the shore and fish.
My dad would take me on a rare weekend,
Carrying our bamboo fishing poles
Strung with chord, and at the end, a hook
To which we’d fasten bread crumbs or some crust…
I never cared if I caught anything,
But I loved to sit beside my dad and fish
In the shade, in the quiet, sitting side by side.
And afterwards we’d drive for lunch someplace,
And I could walk with my dad as if I belonged.
But the fishing was better, I had him to myself
By shore or stream for half a day or more.
I don’t go fishing now, but when I do
I like to sit and not catch anything.
Keep company with me a little while;
I don’t often get the chance to be with you.

Poetry: Mango Season

August 4, 2015

Fiction - Mango Season

Mango Season
By Rachelle Chang
Artwork by BWL (age 8)


When I was young I climbed the mango tree
That grew in our front yard. I played
Bare feet, scraped knees, wild hair, without a care.
I swung my legs. I dreamed. I prayed.
In summer months we used a bamboo pole
To reach high for the fruit. We strained
Arms raised, head back, eyes wide for flash of gold
Up high before the season waned.

When I had climbed beyond the leafy green
Into the sun-bright sky; I dared
Head up, back straight, arms wide, and looked below.
I lost my breath. I paused. I stared.
The mango tree, long rooted in the earth,
No longer stood. Once childhood’s shield
Leaves cut, roots starved, green song silenced
An empty place, a concrete field.