cumulonimbus —
my childhood
winter dawn
a fledgling tries
to flee the nest
summer’s end
a whiff of autumn
takes me home
Established May 2015
By Terrence Sykes
London embanks uponBy Katharine Cristiani
800 years of Eastern Hemlocks
a cathedral of giants
until an insect
rolled as forest fire
charred the life out,
centuries of canopies disappeared
August 2019 - Pennsylvania Mountain Laurel
evergreen jewels
except when drought
sucks the jade out, wilted
brown-spotted, dying
March 2020 - Sycamores
white parchment rips
torn scrolls fall
wind storms extract roots
teeth dangle from gums
July 2021 - Red Pine
burgundy mosaic bark
cradles the forest
soft needles crown the sun,
the chaperones of Pine Creek
watchers of clear water
of the black flies
who float with trout
August 2022 - Blue Heron
raises its leg
recoils
the S of its neck
stabs beak into trout
June 6, 2023 - Deer
choke at dawn
when a dry peach rises
against gray
poisoned dandelion seeds
blown into orange haze
By Stephen A. ROzwenc
Hawaiian
Mai ia manawa maiDear Plum Tree Patrons, Morgen John here.
It's 3 months to the day that my father passed away.
In his honor, we're having a grand reopening.
Will be posting 3 poems per day for the next 3 days!
Like my dad I'm a fan of the mystical, wondrous ways of nature.
Therefore, expanding the submission call for rivers, to include all bodies of water -
From puddles to ponds, to seas, angry waves & the like. This will run to September 23rd.
The beginning of autumn approaches.
(Thanks for understanding my hiatus)
By Royal Rhodes.
For Russell Streur.
By Russell Joseph
(In honor of my late father, Russell. May he Rest in Peace - The Plum Tree Tavern's original barkeep. He has left this establishment to his eldest son - my name is Morgen)
May he live on forever in this space he loves, crafting words and enjoying collaborators he chose carefully. He was a judicious editor & I will continue that legacy. Some of his dying breaths were to post another poem here. So I will begin with one of his.
We love & miss you Dad ~ Morgen, Devin & Margot ~
"We died in the dust.
We died in the rain.
We died on the hills in the arms of our fathers who came and who died and hung from the crosses and died in the darkness and ashes with our mothers before us.
We died in our beds and we fell from the cliffs and died on the rocks.
We drowned in the sea and we died in the summer and we died the day we were born in famine and plague.
We died on the mountain by fire and stone.
We died in the mouths of hyenas in the jaw of despair and we died in the valley leaving footprints and bone.
We danced on the flood and we climbed on the shore and we stood in the cave in the eye of the lamb and our veins and our lungs were the sound of the drums on the moor in the song of the heart and the hymn of the dove.
We rose out of mud and we came out of clay.
We came out of the tomb and the mouth of the fish and we rose from our graves to the hour of earth from the weave and the warp and the loom of the night.
We came from the ark and the maze and we rose from the dew and we came to the day with the loaves of the bread and the skins of the wine.
We walked on the water and we walked on the moon and we walked on the streets of diamond paved cities in impossible joy wearing dresses of light.
We rose out of dirt and rode on the wind and we wrote on the walls and came up from the wreck of our ships in unfathomable deep with the heart of the ocean passed through by the storm.
We came with the flame and the wand of the stars in our hands on the third morning of May and we came out of desert and we swam on the tides with the breath and the word and the names of our gods on our lips and like heroes and ghosts and lovers survive."