Lines

by Deborah P Kolodji

stagnant pond
the back and forth
of a cabbage white

Roots That Bind

by Gary Beck

Barely planted deep enough,
the aged sycamore trees
of Bryant Park
shed their leaves,
compelled by winter
to stand bare limbed.
They are not embarrassed
by nudity,
neither hoping nor despairing
for new leaves in Spring.

Tombstone

by Denny E. Marshall

Aliens mark grave
On earths unmarked tombstone
Died of consumption

Untitled

by Stephen A. Rozwenc

it’s so stifling hot here
in this fashionable extermination dome
we’ve so neatly constructed
New England’s spring wild flowers 
are blooming 3 weeks earlier

but the cross-pollinators
those visionary bees birds insects
and butterflies et al
have not arrived yet
to seed
each vivid pistil
with another generation’s
stamen lush clarity

maybe if we try feeling as deeply as they
before they’re greenhouse gassed
like Jews
in a Nazis death camp

we won’t lose them

The Cranium is Crammed

by Randall Rogers

Full of
nonsense lies
wit that spies
subterfuge
in guise
of truth.

That lays
bare remorse
upon redress
old wounds
sharp healing
knowing
no quarter
no loss
unfounded
non-grounded
none-the-less
cocksure
farm working
the Earth.

Persevering
naturally
pesticide-free
low-input
no till
soil microbe
menagerie
'til the end.

Lunar eclipse, Adelaide 2001

by EJ Shu

beckon the penumbra
keel with a practised lean
into the graving dock

imitate delay

hang the tidal thesis
on the lowlight blocks
between spring and neap

flush iodine to redden the reaped fields
sing the willie wagtail
into the rare hot night

      that ever-weathering silks the fine fraction
      that ions drape the old surface
      that dark mantling stains
      the face of the regolith
      like dogs’ tears

Standing in the Woods Full of Winter

by M.J. Iuppa

Hard to forget the past when you
find yourself standing in a clearing
cribbed by black walnut trees
and fresh snow.

Cold air wakes trivial matters
lodged in your mind.

How strange— the sift of snow
caught between bars of light
ignites what you were so eager
to keep to yourself—

the unspooling of horses
galloping across an open pasture . . .

Gone, again.

Crow and Goose

by Linda Gamble

Sentinel crow, caws
into the March air
from atop a towering
naked oak.

Winter - spring sun
reflects its promise
off the lake below,
a lone goose paddles
against the wind through
shimmering ripples.

Crow caws
            goose honks
crow caws
            goose honks
crow caws
            goose honks

Double Suns

by Heather Saunders Estes

Another smoke-filled sunrise,
the ball, fuchsia red.
Below, a trick reflection in the Bay,

another sun,
squat like a lump of red bean paste
but hot-eyed and wavering.

New Hampshire Morning

by John Grey

Black bear snug in tree fork,
morning sun gilds its fur tips,
turns a fluttering nose to amber.
Crows line the upper oak branch.
Blue jays spread the word -
corvids present - such as they are themselves
chickadee awareness descends in notes.
A solitary cooper's hawk
scours the waking trails for meadow mice.
A groundhog stands on granite soap box.
His mate nibbles the grass nearby.
A rabbit, the whole world to fear,
skitters into nearby brush.
It's spring. Rivers bulge with snowmelt.
Current flings fish into the air.
A great blue heron stalks
the outskirts of a beaver pond.
A chipmunk squeaks, red squirrel chatters.
Maple, poplar, blush with new green.
A vulture keeps a quiet watch for death.
Wart-headed turkeys sway their chest beards.
Nature, unattended, embraces dawn.

Lines

by Denny E. Marshall

streams and rivers black
forest dark barren wasteland
dressed for funeral

Lines

by Carl Mayfield

orange hollyhocks
        drooping
     towards sundown

Friday Morning—for Ryllis of St. Kitts

by Michael H. Brownstein

Come. Today, clear fishing and day bright,
morning sun  strong breath and fresh light.
My friend, here's a paw paw and water nut for you.
Morning comes in crowing. Milky milky. Love vine. Bamboo.
Everything a ripe breadfruit and sugar cane together,
lime, palm leaf, a shadow of heather.
Silence in the ocean with large birds of prey,
one by one the lamps tickle out across the bay.
Now is the time, my love, time for waking,
time for praying, time for telling, time for baking.
Come. Today, a clear start and day bright,
early o’clock, strong breath and fresh light.

Drought

by Carl Mayfield

Brittle locust leaves
bitten by frost, taking on
uneven shades of gray, rust,
black and brown, assembling
where the wind lays down,
the smallest breeze bringing
the voice of decay to life.

Road To Thimpu

by Jagari Mukherjee

Cherry trees on the road
To Thimpu
In Himalaya spring
Lose count of the syllables
In uphill rocks
Under the moon
Colored scotch.

Fanfare and Ballyhoo

by Lynda Lambert

final snowfall
advises slow-moving changes
floating, spiralling, dancing
whispering progression
hardy wet quiescent branches
undressed false acacia
fast-growing tree
black locust takes
a long nap
in rural woodlands
anticipating sunshine
after final snowfall
soft warm rain, new growth
fragrant clusters swagger
spring blossoms flourish
white, pink or purple attire
welcome the new season of
fanfare and ballyhoo.