top of page

The Understudy

Updated: Dec 8, 2023

My last moonlit August had a name: Judas. A farmer, planting weeds was his specialty. His last field was so brilliantly cultivated I cried. That year he won first place at the county fair. He was so proud. Thought his weeds resembled me and dedicated his ribbon to my name. So stirred by his gift, I grew a few weeds of my own dedicated to him, of course. Next year I’ll sow roots to withstand the coming fire— my blessed handiwork.


BIO

Joy Nettles is a wife and mom of three who currently teaches writing at Belmont University. Writing is her passion, but her ultimate desire is to help those around her appreciate each moment as it comes and live a life of purpose on purpose no matter what each stage of life brings.







Recent Posts

See All
A Wintry Wind Whispers

A wintry wind whispers among bare branches In upland fields, a gale howls through frozen hawthorn A mad east wind storms and screams in frenzied fury over abandoned graves and broken crosses Sleet swe

 
 
 
Softly Reassuring

In the barn the cattle’s breath floats, a warm mist touched by the smell of dung and straw. In the fold, the sheep huddle, their rhythmic bleating, softly reassuring. In the farm kitchen a red glow th

 
 
 
A Paradelle for Dorothy Parker

Decades after her death, Dorothy gets a headstone. Born during a hurricane, she was writer, poet, satirist. Dorothy (writer, poet, satirist) was born during a hurricane. Decades after her death, she g

 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page