By Daniela Misso

an open book

left on a tree stump . . .

ants pass by

Daniela Misso

silence between us –

the stones cast shadows

on the sand

Daniela Misso

grass sprouts

I immerse myself

in a book

Daniela Misso

By Biswajit Mishra

harvest moon

not enough to feed

the poets

Biswajit Mishra

By Suraja Menon Roychowdhury

sunshine

all around me

the silence of houseplants

Suraja Menon Roychowdhury

By Oscar Luparia

oneness

your inner spring

makes my soul bloom

Oscar Luparia

solitary pine . . .

the place where I'll stop

when I am gone

Oscar Luparia

By Joshua St. Claire

no echo

the sharpness

of cricketsong

Joshua St. Claire

By Tsanka Shishkova

birds

without their nests

wildfire


Tsanka Shishkova

By Eugeniusz Zacharski

mild breeze

mother's hand

caresses my face

Eugeniusz Zacharski

By Brad Bennett

a lightness

to our leaving

garden webs

Brad Bennett

By Steliana Cristina Voicu

aunt house without aunt…

all my haiga

in her vineyard

Steliana Cristina Voicu

timeless garden —

my children playing

my childhood games

Steliana Cristina Voicu

By David Ngo

in the valley's depth,

a spring gushes forth.

David Ngo

By Nancie Zivetz-Gertler

resting in the shade

i listen to a river

telling its stories

Nancie Zivetz-Gertler

it's hard to find clothes

when you're almost seventy

and you feel brand new

Nancie Zivetz-Gertler

By Bonnie J Scherer

concertina

stretching spring

into summer


Bonnie J Scherer

By Mike Fainzilber

adjusting a picture frame

the world

in place

Mike Fainzilber

memorial service

replacing the priest

a jazz quartet

Mike Fainzilber

butterflies

many lives later

migration’s end

Mike Fainzilber

By Mark Forrester

cracking open

the cool shale

an ancient fern

Mark Forrester

By Maurizio Brancaleoni

thickened fog —

I still delude myself

she will love me

Maurizio Brancaleoni

By Mircea Moldovan

forsythia, the morning walk of a priestess

Mircea Moldovan

By Monica Kakkar

slew of signatures . . .

even with lengthening days

we run out of time


Monica Kakkar

By Pat Davis

saturday

the jingle from mama's

apron pockets

Pat Davis

on a ginko

sounds of contentment

from his wheelchair

Pat Davis