Sunday, July 5, 2020

Midnight in Suriname

by Joshua Fagan

The silver lake leaps
Into a spotted frog’s mouth.
Ripples grow and fade.


by Mary McCormack

red-eyed cicada
struggles up blades of grass--then flies,
suddenly graceful


by Carol Casey

bringer of joy
ruby throated
in magenta lupines
wings invisible
now here, now there
now gone.

Wednesday, July 1, 2020

Lines From North Hutchinson Island

by Andrew Hutto

A bowl of roseate spoonbills stir when the
lagoon wakes shutter the mangrove forest.

Marsh rabbits and stone crabs
Hide in sandy burrows.

Sunday, June 28, 2020


by Sarah-Jane Crowson

The hollow road’s all snarled with thorns,
fringed with stinging plants, the path
lost in hundred-eyed branches, where roots
are claws, knitting floors of speedwell, bluebell,
stitchwort, nettle, wren, dock, buttercup,
vipers bugloss, thrush, goosegrass, dock
nettle, dock, nettle.

Rose-breasted Grosbeak

by Diane Sahms

As if every sound has its own shape, purpose.
His song, distilled. His black-hooded head
& brilliant semi-circle of red, with a leaky
valve extending down the middle of a white breast
& satin black wings with patches of white highlights
& this sacred space—his rambling song & sharp
rhythmic tweets—then in silence—there’s
emptiness—to enter, to become that silence,
ever changed


by Trishita Das

crow blots itself into the skin of the sky,
crow pulls the smell of rot from corpses,
crow cackles into the night's blackness.

Wednesday, June 24, 2020


by Christina Chin

billowing red sails
in morning mists
Halong Bay

Sunday, June 21, 2020

Scent of Almonds

by Padmini Krishnan

The spring moon melts
into a tree yellow butterfly
on the almond bush

Summer Savory

by Sarah-Jane Crowson

Summer Savory, lemon-spiced,
softer than Rosemary. Dark green
leaf-spears glow with oil.

Mercury claims dominion over this herb.

After Rain Herbs

by Ann Boaden

After rain herbs smell of themselves.
Cleared and crystalized with wet, they
skein away green down a summer roadside:
heft and sheen
of honey; quick red
of pepper; blue clean
langor of lavender.
to balm.

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Tsuchiyama - 50th station of the Tokaido Road by Utagawa Hiroshige
(Kyoka version)

by James Bell

a violent rainstorm beats down
on four travellers who hasten

along their path in a defile
between the hills - the roofs

of the village can be glimpsed
further down - in the distance

profiles of summits - blue
mountains that spare the houses

from the storm soon to abate when
the mountains change to a brighter shade

Sunday, June 14, 2020

'after summer rain'

by I.W.B.S. Sister Lou Ella Hickman

                         after summer rain
                     leaves in wind
              rustle like chimes
         in an old forest

Spring Morning

by Feston Altus

When the rain ends
Green buds speckle
The black spring oak
Two damp whitetail deer
step across a frostless stream.


by Saharsh Sateesh

Winter mist
chisels crevices
into Mount Shuksan.

Wednesday, June 10, 2020


by Randall Rogers

Tickle my fancy
deadly asp
for I enjoy
life knowing
I'm gonna die (death);
wisdom flees
from a surfeit
of security.
Hold your breath
until you turn

Sunday, June 7, 2020

Sapir Whorf

by Ian McFarland

I can see the world,
just as clearly as
I am able to
describe it.
Balanos adds       
another shade of
Marsh, fen, grove,
left to wonder
at the placement
of his oaks,
bunkered on the rise
among the wild grasses
by the river,
spry the wooded clearing.


This will take some time.

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

A Florida Swamp

by John Grey

A solitary egret rides in
on a floating island.
Mangrove twine
sips brackish water.
Snake slithers through the tangle,
            upends a log
            of painted turtles.     

Now and then,
fish pop the surface
            Swamp, sleeping water.

A frog’s throat drums.

Sunday, May 31, 2020


by John Hawkhead

winter sun
blue notes in a minor key
fresh snow

Outside Pignon Haiti

by Connor Orrico

as dusk settles
in Fontaine hamlet
the Equus bray

Saturday, May 30, 2020


by Anannya Uberoi

an apple tree plunging,
the elm parroting,
a gamble of eggs

Wednesday, May 27, 2020


by M.J. Iuppa

This country air smells heavy
& strangely thick— green fumes of
cabbage— a whole field never picked, but
left to expose its demise, from a race of blue
caps swimming in an unexpected sea to
so many skulls bearing the grimace of
Pompeii— eyes raise to question
this field’s sour economy.

Sunday, May 24, 2020

Seasons With Stone Lizard

by Terrence Sykes

upon my stone wall
lizard flashes rainbow tail
seasons come early

what do you forage
dandelions plucked for lunch
let us share this meal

verdant sunlight fades
clutching of oregano
spring rains bring flowers

willow branches dance
blackbird casts it mournful song
cross the fountain

summer comes too soon
lizard I call you my friend
flashing prism gleam

ginger blossoms soar
into star laden cosmos
dawn finds me hungry

rivers call my name
unspoken punctuation
where is my autumn

chestnut foliage
wild hive laden with honey
hidden in the lairs

where are you lizard
we have not talked as of late
dreams need to be told

mulberry charcoal
warms these freshly plucked peaches
drunk upon plum wine

clouds steeped silent hours
chrysanthemums shine brightly
like a pot of tea

lost in copse & groves
olive tree constellations
tea kettle simmers

stars fall from the sky
winter snow comes too early
fire pit keeps me warm

stone lizard stay warm
hibernate like a phoenix
resurrect come spring

Wednesday, May 20, 2020

Late April Evening, Garden Valley, Idaho

by Yash Seyedbagheri

At the end of Sunset Drive
where the road curves
pines rise
black shadows
sky a deep velvet
frogs calling
Venus shines
a waxing crescent moon above the trees
it is the last week of April

Sunday, May 17, 2020

Green on Grey in Adelaide

by Martha Landman

Rain forced in by Antarctic winds
drenches pepper trees, oaks
and fern.
Lorikeets’ green, yellow and red
defy the sunless grey morning
until skies open to their screeches
and let blue slither through.


by Kathleen Brewin Lewis

Leaves of the banana tree,
gravid with fresh rain.
One touch, they spill their catch.
Green day born and baptized.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

A Brief List of Brilliant Things

by Kathleen Brewin Lewis

Thin light of morning.
Aubade of the house wren,
aroma of magnolia. Spiderwebs,
brown hawk in the sky.
Green meadows dabbed
with violets. Ginkgo turning to gold.

Spray of waterfall. Hiss of goose.
The chatter of afternoon rain.
Jupiter and Venus in the sky
together, fireflies in the pines.
A path of silver moonlight
thrown down on the crumpled sea.

Sunday, May 10, 2020


by JS Absher

early spring
lambs in the shadow
of a vulture's wing


by Kevin McGowan

bazaar of spices
stemming from musky heartwood

Zebra-Tailed Lizards

by Lynn Finger

Zebra-tailed lizards
under buckled mesquite,
soft sounds
on dry river sand.

Wednesday, May 6, 2020


by Michael Estabrook

the sky with all its blue
tumbling down through the branches and leaves
of the trees reaching
all the way to the ground.

Sunday, May 3, 2020


by Elizabeth Sams

barn owl
in a crevice in the Douglas Fir
as dusk falls