Laura Grace Weldon’s happy childhood was marred by the presence of alligators under her bed. No one ever proved they weren’t real.
She is the author of the poetry collections Universe Marveled Into a Jar, Portals, Blackbird and Tending as well as Free Range Learning, a handbook of natural learning.
She was named Ohio’s 2019 Poet of the Year and works as a book editor as well as editor of Braided Way: Faces and Voices of Spiritual Practice. She leads workshops on memoir, poetry, and creative thinking. Laura’s background includes teaching nonviolence, writing collaborative poetry with nursing home residents, facilitating support groups for abuse survivors, and writing sardonic greeting cards.
She Facebooks too often on her own page, on the informative Free Range Learning community page, and the entirely silly Subversive Cooking page. She also flits about on Bluesky.
Laura lives on a small farm. Although she has deadlines to meet she tends to wander from the computer to preach hope, snort with laughter, cook subversively, ponder life’s deeper meaning, talk to livestock, sing to bees, walk dogs, make messy art, concoct tinctures, watch foreign films, and hide in books.
By the way, she’s learned that the alligators haunting us are exactly where any of us put them.
Laura Grace Weldon 
beautiful truth, my favorite kind.
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Lovely poem, Laura!This image: Houses and mailboxes / walk toward my headlights . . . Wow!
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Thank you Susan. Far greater thanks for all the poetry goodness you offer through Little Pocket Poetry. I urge others to check it out at littlepocketpoetry.org
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So wonderful 🙂 I really loved reading this. And the first photograph is magical.
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as you know I am drawn to things visible that are often invisible and invisible things that dream to be seen – I love your poem
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