end of autumn
a goat eats
the
bark of a pine tree
Daniel Birnbaum
cloud
spotting my troubles shifting shape
Nicola Schaum
sensory extension
the deaf cat sees, I listen
summer
rain
Nicola Schaum
termite tango
drifting wings
glisten
at dusk
Nicola Schaum
The sound of the harp
in the heart of a forest
invigorates me
relieving my mind with grace
providing
peace to my soul
Olivia Sitlub
from the brush
a rabbit with a torn ear
evening
chill
Wilda Morris
translucent windows
of an old house
cicada
skin
Wilda Morris
cutting
his own hair
the boy
still in my son
Tony Williams
desire
path
the scent of something
that isn’t here
Tony
Williams
quieter
the
path
between the trees
Tony Williams
late arrival
mum joins the family
grave
John Hawkhead
schoolyard teams
the last one picked
the
first to die
John Hawkhead
eggs fried
crisp around the edges …
learning
to say no
Joseph P. Wechselberger
tasting the moon—
the way your eyes look
looking
at me
Joseph P. Wechselberger
a phone number written
inside an old matchbook …
yard
sale sport coat
Joseph P. Wechselberger
the smell of fresh-baked pie
a game of checkers
on
the front porch
Joseph P. Wechselberger
crushed sun hat
mosaics
form
a point
Jerome Berglund
down the aisle
bird sanctuary
Jerome Berglund
red truck
driving away
my
midlife crisis
Jharna Sanyal
birds at dusk ...
so much to say
to
each other
Jharna Sanyal
limitless—
a toddler's
whys
Jennifer Gurney
souvenir
of a springtime hike—
muddy
boots
Jennifer Gurney
breathing life
into winter...
spring
Jennifer Gurney
solar eclipse
from the woods
sound
of crickets
John J. Dunphy
church fire
its steeple bell rung by
fire
hose water
John J. Dunphy
the
earth is still in
eight billion little pieces
after the
eclipse
J. D. Nelson
crows
in the windy matrix the half day moon just is
J. D. Nelson
I
tell the houseplants
that it’s a little hazy
second week
of spring
J. D. Nelson
on
the night bus disorienting window reflections
J. D. Nelson
orange
spring sunset
a snack of four clementines
on the bus ride
home
J. D. Nelson
dabbing
on my charcoal drawing
something of you
in
each contour
Arvinder Kaur
cold moon
one more silhouette
mingles
into fog
Arvinder Kaur
leaves drop
each one goes down
with
a dance
Arvinder Kaur
In the Pasture
I was in my mother's arms, the raindrops pounding on our black umbrella, just above my head. Her left arm around me, holding the umbrella as well. In her right hand she held a rope tied to the head of our cow.
on the rope
connecting us with the cow
rainbow raindrops
D. V. Rozic