I watch a candle
warm itself
on my wall
I want that passion
in
the yellow haze
Sharon Ferrante
I always
tell the truth—
it was me
who threw Jupiter
her
little moons
Sharon Ferrante
I wonder
if I leave my cloak
in your cold forest
will it take away
your
shiver?
Sharon Ferrante
white dove
a token totem
for
non-existent peace
Sankara Jayanth
perennials
not without goodbyes
Sankara Jayanth
flu season . . .
the hypochondriac
senses demise
in a single sneeze
that
could wake the dead
Susan Yavaniski
a big smile. . .
hiding the wrinkles
in
my confidence
Susan Yavaniski
ear doctor
surely the whole office hears
my
diagnosis
Susan Yavaniski
claiming
the American dream an American gun
Susan Yavaniski
dancing on rooftops
new declaration
end
of all wars
Stephen Jarrell Williams
watercolor
of purple and blue
moon
rising
Shasta Hatter
fog
in distant trees...
funeral
rites
Shasta Hatter
bitter wind
lost voices
of
loved ones
Stephanie Zepherelli
carving wood
i remember dad’s hands
covered
in dust
Stephanie Zepherelli
butterfly wings
perfectly balanced
spring
equinox
Stephanie Zepherelli
barren landscape
one flower blooming
is enough
Stephanie
Zepherelli
only after
you switch the light off
in the hall
and the last plane of the night
descends,
can I fall asleep
Ruth Holzer
windstorm
reading a letter
not
meant for me
Ruth Holzer
shipwrecked
a gale
of
free-floating grace
Kelly Moyer
pearls
the loneliest bird tethers to the nest
Kelly Moyer
wishing well
a stone
for
every sorrow
Kelly Moyer
early morning
the storm
under
my skull
Timothy Daly
yoga class
trying to balance
commitments
Timothy Daly
the fallen pine
needles stab me
nostalgia
Timothy Daly
funeral lilies
the young father learns
to
french braid
John Pappas
between
that and this
winter
rain
John Pappas
flood watch
she tells me again
it
is what it is
John Pappas
white
asters stay and wild a while
John Pappas
root rot
another far-off war
on
television
John Pappas
frogspawn
black holes
in
a rippled universe
Robert Witmer
tricycle tracks
all the branches
of
the human tree
Robert Witmer
crime novel
an old parking ticket
marks
the page
Robert Witmer
still
in slippers
spring
morning
Brad Bennett
sunlight
through the skylight
by
way of the moon
Brad Bennett
bird tracks
the call
of
a snowplow
Brad Bennett
Empty
birch branches
stand bent, gaunt in bitter cold
Sheets of
ice clinging.
Yvona Fast