Xiaoou Chen

 

Edited by Oana Maria Cercel. 

Maria Cristina Pulvirenti

fragrance of a rose -

hours pass

in erosion

—Maria Cristina Pulvirenti

Hynek Koziol

in her window

a reflection of me

three years ago

—Hynek Koziol

lunch break

pollinating the violets

with my nose

—Hynek Koziol

March rain

the bindweed dies

with the tree

—Hynek Koziol

Janet Ruth

 wisps of fog adrift on the river two mergansers

—Janet Ruth

dark skies far across the prairie a ribbon of light

—Janet Ruth

Adrian Bouter

harsh words

the catkins in bloom

nothing touches

—Adrian Bouter

Krzysztof Kokot

under the apple tree –

the spring sun gently

caresses the face

—Krzysztof Kokot

Anne Fox

filling the air

with sky ...

bluebird song

—Anne Fox

Elliot Diamond

sunset

the sentence of day

inches closer

—Elliot Diamond

Deborah A. Bennett

full moon . . . 

in the steeping tea

a single bubble

—Deborah A. Bennett

walking the path

to the berry field at dawn

cuckoo's call

—Deborah A. Bennett

John Hawkhead

later-life issues

I wonder if the nurse

has a boyfriend

—John Hawkhead

another year

snowflakes fall

more quickly

—John Hawkhead

Google Earth

revisiting the places

I’ve never been

—John Hawkhead

lost in our own thoughts

so long since we kissed

with open mouths

—John Hawkhead

child bride

the soft plaintive cries

of a collared dove

—John Hawkhead

Vaishnavi Pusapati

new nest…

mornings begin early

at my window

—Vaishnavi Pusapati

laughing at nothing,

the sitting baby

falls over

—Vaishnavi Pusapati

Nicholas Klacsanzky

second baptism . . .

the magpie’s call

returns to the river

—Nicholas Klacsanzky

Sarah Mahina Calvello

young love

mellowing fast

the floor tangerines 

—Sarah Mahina Calvello

Belinda Behne

along the dark path

 a flash of light

 albino squirrel

—Belinda Behne 

Martina Matijević

shop handbag

caught on its white pearls

echoes of starlight

—Martina Matijević

Helen Sokolsky

dinner talk

candle flames

burn quickly

—Helen Sokolsky

Monarchs, a haibun by AJ Johnson

Returning from the river trailhead in early spring I don’t notice them until they are fluttering all around me like dozens of orange-black leaves blown heavenward. 

clouds part

I chase rainbows

on Rose River

A live reading (Oana Maria Cercel).

Kavita Ratna

kneading dough

mother’s fingerprints

on every roti

—Kavita Ratna

Tuyet Van Do

waxing gibbous moon

in the kitchen

the sound of dripping water

—Tuyet Van Do

Jiel Narvekar

misty light

ceaseless cawing

of a crow at my window

—Jiel Narvekar