Sunday, August 30, 2020

Whitefish Point

by Carol Farnsworth

a spit of land
waves tumble smooth stones
litter the sand

Ripples in a Pond

by Ahrend Torrey

          A subtle chain of countless rings         
          The next unto the farthest brings…
                  —    Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Nature”
      
A pine nut falls into the dark, still pond—
a ripple-wave appears, then another

ripple-wave appears, then another

ripple-wave appears, then another

ripple-wave appears, then another


pine nut falls into the dark, still pond…

Lines

by Carl Mayfield

coachwhip snakes
    mating in the shade
       of the cedar tree

Sunday, August 23, 2020

Summer Morning

by Patricia Hope

Dawn
On Watts Bar Lake
Geese honk
Water laps
Chickadees chatter
Swallows dive
Ducks quack
Mayflies amass
Egrets stand
Fog clears.

Sunday, August 16, 2020

Lines

by Padmini Krishnan 

dawn drizzle
a Wood Pigeon’s
new tune

Garden Valley, Idaho, Morning

by Yash Seyedbagheri

Over Warm Springs Road,
sun falls
along with graying shadows
dead Ponderosa pine leans
sky light blue

Lines

by Mark Danowsky

two goldfinches alight
on a blush rose bush
across from the Wawa

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

The Dog's Growl

by Chris Butler

The human mind is a mile wide
but only six inches deep.
But when hunger growls,
the human mind is the first chew toy.

Sunday, August 9, 2020

Blood Moon Near Sacramento

by Kaitlyn Jensesn

blood moon leaks
red in all
directions as
if an empty tavern
bathed in neon
light
on the road
to Winters

Exhale

by Patricia Hope

The jungle inhales
The jungle swells
The jungle prowls
The jungle slithers
The Jungle crawls
The jungle assassinates
The jungle scavenges
The jungle decays
The jungle persists
The jungle exhales.

Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Lines

by Philip C.  Kolin

cotton fields after
harvesting
a cloudless sky

Sunday, August 2, 2020

Katydid

by Michael H. Brownstein

south wind
night falls
trees go to shadows and darkness
and then
a slew of boasting katydids
katy-did-katy-didn’t. katy-did-katy-didn’t.

On the Croton River near St. Augustine’s

by  Kathleen Williamson

Pink moon rises—
starlings in the oak
go silent