By Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont

do we remember

hot summers and cold winters

from our childhood?

talking about rain or shine

isn’t like it used to be

Marcellin Dallaire-Beaumont

By Diane Webster

lake shore

leaves reattach to the aspen

on water

Diane Webster

By C.X. Turner

low tide

      the sandcastles

we leave behind

C.X. Turner

waterfall

dipping a toe

into the unknown

C.X. Turner

By Susan Lee Roberts

chamomile—

waiting for water to boil

I brew haiku


Susan Lee Roberts

summer hike

exploring the vastness

of the map

Susan Lee Roberts

By Sébastien Revon

without my son —

the light of dawn

always somewhere

Sébastien Revon

not the rain

but the lukewarm coffee —

end of summer


Sébastien Revon

By Paul Callus

unleashed

on an empty beach

the dog’s excitement

Paul Callus

By Bryan Rickert

father’s grave

finally telling him

what I really think

Bryan Rickert

romantic picnic

we both come away

with a tick

Bryan Rickert

By Vera Constantineau

crossroad

a day without a need

to yield

Vera Constantineau

heavy rain

swapping summer for fall

in the closet

Vera Constantineau

senior golfer

corrects his stance

at the urinal


Vera Constantineau

By Dinah Power

the pen

struggles to write

sonic booms

Dinah Power

By Kelly Sargent

French lavender bunch

the life I thought

I was bound for

Kelly Sargent

winter rain

the wisdom

of imperfection

Kelly Sargent

By Mark Forrester

beach wedding—

the flower girl gathers

broken shells


Mark Forrester

midnight rain

remembering

my mother’s voice

Mark Forrester

By Nicoletta Ignatti

moonlit sea—

all my thoughts

in the dark

Nicoletta Ignatti

By Stephanie Zepherelli

            pulled 

                      into 

                           another 

                                       black 

                                               hole 

                                                     nightmare

Stephanie Zepherelli

                  balance 

               amid chaos

            stacking stones

Stephanie Zepherelli

By Richard L. Matta

willow leaf

a koi practices

catch and release

Richard L. Matta

box canyon hike

a chorus of coyotes

deepens darkness

Richard L. Matta

By Vandana Parashar

coming out of woods the sudden depth of the sky

Vandana Parashar

on the periphery of night just enough space for me

Vandana Parashar

carbon dating am I too old to bond

Vandana Parashar

deep in dhyana

thud of a newspaper

outside my door

Vandana Parashar

By Steve Van Allen

single bird on a wire

one-note afternoon

Steve Van Allen

hot July

in tall grassy shade

a deer

Steve Van Allen

By Emil Karla

a single clock

back and forth in time—

tango

Emil Karla

the many birds

above the tracks

within the morning sun

Emil Karla

By J. D. Nelson

why presupposes everything one random car horn blast

J. D. Nelson

morning crow morning crow come on everybody it’s the morning crow

J. D. Nelson

crabapples on the tree some red some green some red & green

J. D. Nelson

lightning against the dark sky I remember a dream come true

J. D. Nelson

By Tim Murphy

dead plant

listening to a language

I used to know

Tim Murphy

By Neena Singh

autumn sunset

last year’s olives

still in the fridge

Neena Singh

By Nancy Brady

how green

our earth was

–climate change

Nancy Brady

September morning...

the lone honk

of a Canada goose

Nancy Brady

By Aaron Anstett

noodle shop morning

slurp until nothing

but oil in miso

Aaron Anstett

By Karen O’Leary

origami butterfly poetry from a friend

Karen O’Leary

older than dirt

I kick up dust

square dancing

Karen O’Leary

By Biswajit Mishra

my old school

the road has grown

to tarmac

Biswajit Mishra

I’d rather

he didn’t touch my nerves

dental visit

Biswajit Mishra

By Elena Zouain

autumn storm –

the notes of the wind knocking on the window


Elena Zouain

By Joseph Kleponis

vanishing point –

parallel tracks roll on

destination unknown

Joseph Kleponis

I heard you singing

soft and sweet –

or was it the wind?

Joseph Kleponis

By Ana Drobot

haijin debate –

behind Basho’s frog

interjections

Ana Drobot

autumn leaves

just me, myself and I

same old song

over and over

again

Ana Drobot

By Russell Dupont

Sitting by the bank

of the Saco, I gaze at

my daughter Kristen

and her friend, like two Naiads

frolicking on the water.

Russell Dupont