Issue 7
-
C. Stolle, Dream #1: Blue
Christopher Stolle Dream #1: Blue Flowers tinted light bluewith one dark blue polka dotin the center of each petalclustered in a perfect circleas if stuck intoa gigantic air filterwhirl just above the horizonin a stable orbitwith me as the gravitational centerwith arms outstretchedto gather the fragrance Christopher Stolle has had his work published by Indiana…
-
D. Lee, Seven A. M. in the Garden
David Lee Seven A. M. in the Garden The garden sleeps in shades of gray;a beetle crawls beneath the basil.Sunrise hasn’t decided where to begin,but it’s already everywhere.A single crocus unfolds like a secret,petals pale against soil that still dreams.I kneel to lift a stone: tiny spiders scatter,a whisper of worlds too small to name.Coffee…
-
J. Chelius, Bird Feeder at a Local Branch
Joseph Chelius Bird Feeder at a Local Branch At the branch of a bank,the tellers in little snatchesthroughout their dayhave a view outsideof wrens and finchestaking turns at a feeder—spilling seed in the manicured grass.As I waited in line, I wonderedwhose idea to set it up.Did they need permission,the approval of managementto change décor? No…
-
B. McAfee, Moby Bob
Bob McAfee Moby Bob I am standing in the garden at Adam’s Farm, my first year digging in this plot, spadedshovel for the virgin turning, using the point to break roots, shaking the dirt off grass clumps, clearing fringes. I am aware of black birds above me, circling slowly, vultures, lining up for the feast…
-
E. Ahern, Spring Feedings
Ed Ahern Spring Feedings The bread scattered for house sparrowsis plucked by a murder of crows.The peanuts strewn for the squirrelsare absconded with by blue jays.Table scraps left out for the possumsare (judging by odor) eaten by skunks.My chosen dinner guests get hungrierwhile the party crashers feast al fresco,reminiscent of family gatherings,corporate outings, and vacationswhere…
-
C. Cottom, Festival of Flowers
Chris Cottom Festival of Flowers Led by Pastor Michaels, we pray the judges will award us at least a silver gilt. We dress the reredos with Rose of Sharon, twist love-lies-bleeding around the cross. But the Plymouth Brethren speckle their pulpit with Star of Bethlehem; the font at St Olave’s has pondweed and ducklings. Across…
-
B. Duncan, Nearly Remembered Dream
Brian Duncan Nearly Remembered Dream Just out of reach,like a spring ephemeralin dense woods, brieflyblazing bright,then tucked backinto its duff bedas summer greenery casts its shade. Brian Duncan lives in New Jersey with his wife, Margie, and two cats. He worked in a virology laboratory for many years. He enjoys devoting his retirement time to…
-
R. Mowatt, And I Am
Rosie Mowatt And I Am I am a bead of water clinging to a spider’s webat the end of a swaying branch, waiting to fallwith the next whisper of wind.I am the last seed at the bottom of the bird feeder, waiting my turn to be pecked and discardedby the next flight of wings.I am…
-
Carol Bachofner, The Magdalen Misconception
Carol Bachofner The Magdalen Misconception How does a hometown harlot make itinto the Bible? Is it the perfumeof her hair, her salt tears, maybea family connection to history?She is a daughter of Eve by defaultas we all are supposed to accept.She knows all the men in town, what they prefer. Her mother criesat what her…
-
P. Cashorali, On Learning of a Friend’s Death
Peter Cashorali On Learning of a Friend’s Death Backyard, no two greens repeat,flowers giving local light.No good reason to go further,nothing elsewhere better seen.Psalms and koans take a number,myths and scriptures cool their heelsbefore the facts of lavender,roses, artichoke plants in bloom,bougainvillea on its trellis.Phoebes, linnets stealing cat food,sometimes a hawk on weightless wingssails through…