The late summer rain
never calls, never writes, gets
visit
over with.
Chad Parenteau
The late summer rain
never calls, never writes, gets
visit
over with.
Chad Parenteau
coffee
and donuts
as i police
the sunrise
Scott F. Parker
where
we are—
beyond us
only fog
Scott F. Parker
dead of night
an octopus turns off the valve
on
the gas pipeline
Eugeniusz Zacharski
under the streetlight
two moths
dance
away the night
Marjolein
Rotsteeg
holiday abroad
a stray cat looking like mine
wants
to make friends
Marjolein Rotsteeg
forest
bathing I slowly become a tree
Mona Bedi
blinking
cursor —
the things I leave
unsaid
Mona Bedi
in
pursuit
of a butterfly
my whole life
Tony Williams
thistle
it’s
obvious
you don’t want a hug
Tony Williams
Anthropocene
the
hard-edged debate
on plastic rock
Pravat Kumar Padhy
forest
poem a child rhymes green and green
Pravat Kumar Padhy
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
low tide
the sandcastles
we
leave behind
C.X. Turner
waterfall
dipping a toe
into
the unknown
C.X. Turner
chamomile—
waiting
for water to boil
I brew haiku
Susan Lee Roberts
summer
hike
exploring the vastness
of the map
Susan Lee
Roberts
without
my son —
the light of dawn
always somewhere
Sébastien Revon
not
the rain
but the lukewarm coffee —
end of
summer
Sébastien Revon