By Susan Lee Roberts

trailside daisies

my fingers itch

to pick them

Susan Lee Roberts

*

 

gnarled branches

battling to be seen—

family tree


Susan Lee Roberts

By Deby Cedars

Fruit from a fruit stand.

Green mango on the windowsill

Ripens perfectly.

Deby Cedars

By Stephen Toft

early blossom

the bus driver stops

to adjust his mirror

Stephen Toft

By JL Huffman

morning mist

Sandburg’s pale cat

paws the windshield

JL Huffman

By David Cox

thick blue sky–

a school bans

rainbows

David Cox

By Pris Campbell

I thunder

down the dirt road

he chases dust

from the wrong car

for one more kiss

Pris Campbell

By Steliana Cristina Voicu

jasmine moon –

the pond reflecting me

inside your arms

Steliana Cristina Voicu

By Ram Chandran

plucking the weeds

she thinks

of her estranged husband

Ram Chandran

By Chen-ou Liu

waiting alone

in this cheap motel room

all night long

the vacancy sign

blinks on, blinks off ...

Chen-ou Liu

By Lorraine Caputo

Spirits entangled

in the cobwebs of tortured

memories – my past

Lorraine Caputo

*

 

A thousand shards of

Art Deco lamp glass scattered

across the dusk sky

Lorraine Caputo

By Zhihua Wang

So much just happened

in a new poem, yet the world

remains the same.

Zhihua Wang

By Alfred Booth

as if a satellite

could replace a full moon . . .

machine-gun dreams

Alfred Booth

*

what does

a machine know of awe?

the Milky Way

Alfred Booth

By Krzysztof Kokot

a globe –

a fruit fly has just climbed

Mt Everest

Krzysztof Kokot

By Jennifer Gurney

Downhill to the sea

I descend on shifting sands

To reach the ocean

Jennifer Gurney

By Andrew Markowski

temple fog—

nothing but emptiness

in the zen garden

Andrew Markowski

*

 

on crowded sidewalks

just enough rain

for umbrellas to bloom

Andrew Markowski

By Joseph P. Wechselberger

speed dating

the changing colors

of her mood ring

Joseph P. Wechselberger

*

 

a lawn full of dandelions

going to seed

foreclosure

Joseph P. Wechselberger

By Allyson Whipple

bourbon’s last gasp

at the back of my throat—

what’s left unsaid

Allyson Whipple

By Robert Witmer

starlight vanishing

a cry of surprise

from the rooster

Robert Witmer

*

silence

playing chess

with the moonlight

Robert Witmer