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

Carmela Marino

lunar orbit

a tan line

on my ring finger

—Carmela Marino

Gerald Friedman

March sun

a purple nama seedling

has one tiny flower

—Gerald Friedman 

Susan Lee Roberts

morning sun

in a tiny glass jar

pussy willows spring 

—Susan Lee Roberts

Royal Rhodes

each autumn

out-of-state visitors

search along highways

for the most colorful leaves

not the trees I cut down

—Royal Rhodes

along the coast

the maps I follow

show observation posts

where sea lions echo

in open caves

—Royal Rhodes

a dead fawn

sprawled in the garden

until found

while the indoor cat

sat nearby in silence

—Royal Rhodes

hikers ahead

make a trail for me

brushing aside stones

someone threw

safe now in my pocket

—Royal Rhodes

our family dog

a tired german shepherd

comes close

to show me

how to lie down

—Royal Rhodes

Haiga, by Oscar Luparia

 —Oscar Luparia

Douglas J. Lanzo

vast mountain skies

the hope

in my father's voice

—Douglas J. Lanzo

Hasan Aspahani

lamp light 

shadows running 

across the puddles

—Hasan Aspahani

Ravi Kiran

pastel shades

she stopped using

all those words

—Ravi Kiran

the glow rises

in a child’s eyes

sky lantern

—Ravi Kiran

Splintered, a haibun by Kenneth Arthur

He now existed as fragments suspended above the barren landscape of after work cocktails and idle chit chat. Where time flowed slowly like ripples in the sand. He felt truly lost wherever people gathered for laughs – the one who never got the joke. More observer than participant, alien spaceship that had slipped its moorings to hover in the distance, he barely cast a shadow on the lives around him. No longer belonged. Unwanted. Unwelcome. He’d rather be home alone, disappeared in a favorite fantasy novel. He had no idea how to put all the fragments together again and sink into the sands of life where he might matter once more, or for the first time. 

blue sky 

in the desert 

the sun's glare

Chen-ou Liu

I seem happy

in this wedding photo

with brown edges ...

on my then-wife's face

a look I never knew

—Chen-ou Liu

Richard West

winter trees

their only leaves

a flock of finches

—Richard West

a raven’s call dissolves in the silence of snow

—Richard West

Malcolm Highfield

stillness

that moment

before you reply

—Malcolm Highfield

unused slippers 

in the hall 

the clock ticking

—Malcolm Highfield

Joanna Ashwell

river tide

the shape of wings

in twilight’s brush

—Joanna Ashwell

Partha Sarkar

sanguine music 

fall of innocent 

starlings 

—Partha Sarkar

Philip Davison

winter solstice

lifting the centre of the lake

the moon

—Philip Davison

Manasa Reddy Chichili

needle ice

knitting for

newborn

—Manasa Reddy Chichili

Julie Bates

winter’s end

the lengthening branches

of moonlight

—Julie Bates

Haiga (Xiaoou Chen, Yuhan Wang)

Text by Xiaoou Chen,

Photo by Yuhan Wang

Bona M. Santos

placid morning

out of my tea cup rim

a flock of ducks

—Bona M. Santos

breaking dawn

I let go of making sense

of your silence

—Bona M. Santos