Plum Tree Tavern

by Doug Draime I want to hear the bird’s song, that’s all. The meadowlark in the dense dark oaks, or the whippoorwill crooning to and ...

by Perry Lee Powell What we kill In our                    Treading on the garter snake     Back yard What we don't

by Stefanie Bennett   Watching the storm cloud Roll up its sleeves Above the serialized Splash Of an ever Changing Cosmos The Thun...

by Tammy T. Stone The river carrying Sounds of self, inviting Witness.

by JS Absher slower and slower crossing a plowed field after rain

by Ed Higgins frog song heron pond-stalking listening

by Emily Ramser I didn't read the warning, in fact, I forgot it was there, and I microwaved my head. My brain exploded. It's ...

by Theresa A. Cancro small silence -- a night heron ensnared in fishing wire

by Gary Beck The migratory chickadee tries to eat at the feeder, but territorial sparrows, tough town birds, have no sympathy for the...

by Barbara Brooks Don’t know what killed the mole; on close inspection I saw no damage from talons of barred owl or punctures from cat ...

by Seth Jani I am simply amazed by the light Dissolving in the purple vat of evening. The heavenly entourage of leaves And starshine, s...

by Sage Borja Swimming underwater seems closest To dancing in the Milky Way Knowing nothing but the amount of air I have left in my sui...

by Larry Jones Hummingbird lands on the feeder, takes the nectar. Flies over to where I sit. Eyeball to eyeball he hovers......... ...

by Don Mager Sky’s flattened cloudless platter slides its short hour into the chromatic scale of yellow’s pitches.  Overhead spreads cr...

by Sonja Johanson living so precariously, so easily undermined by insistence of water, geometry of swells, frequencies which could lif...

by Tom Sheehan What is inordinate are the hippopotami of rocks near Hermit Island in Maine, thick-skulled, unblinking, refusing to mourn ...

by Joanna M. Weston incoming tide of black oil sandpipers

by Sonja Johanson East will take me back. I drive west. I wend between snowbanks, until the road delivers me to a sleeping boat launch....

by Sonja Johanson Used to be, trees were so big we couldn’t see the jack opposite side of the cross-cut. Now I can haft an underbuck ...

by Michael Friedman Light, the reflection of brass, winks in the chill and tumbled scattering of leaves. Naked branches no longer pul...

by Diane Sahms-Guarnieri Scattered perfume    hypnotic scent breathe white-charmed blossoms wandering vine, which like you, we grew upon...

by Michael H. Brownstein A thin lisp of fog smokes beyond the trees, white tracks line the farm. Somewhere someplace else is lost in the...

by Tim Gardiner no longer alive, Jackdaw Drive much less pleasant, Robin Crescent kept at bay from Partridge Way too much talk on Cygne...

by Patricia Williams big thunder clap few raindrops – much said, little action

by Catfish McDaris raindrops swallowed by the Pacific, a snowflake melts, no one listens

by Taylor Graham A Great Horned Owl. Three hoots repeated at intervals. A school lesson, mantra, a warning – a message to solve. That ow...

by Sandy Hiortdahl Some bright June morning, Mockingbird will call you, too, beyond the known world.

by Yuan Changming The sad sigh of nature keeps bugging each inner tree Into shapeless shapes

by Susan Keiser Winter has frozen her work now, secret names shimmering, safe, anguished. Lulled, we enter it like a rocking cradle, th...

by Davd Chorlton A slow wind on a cloudy Sunday passes between the Dollar General and Circle K, while Barn swallows skim the asphalt pa...

by Dan Cardoza I grip the fuse     thumb & forefinger between sizzle and blast your face     wicked cursed with worry I smiled  ...

by Chris Butler Some folks walk along the straight and narrow road, never rising or falling above or below the apathetic medium. But...

by Nancy Scott McBride On the banks of the trash-strewn stream….. daffodils.

by Donal Mahoney His parents bought a special lock to keep Nature Boy inside but he’s mechanically inclined and loves to go outside. ...

by Joe Brennand mayfly at dusk one pebble skims the lake

by Nancy May in a world of dreams no beginning, no end woken by birdsong

by Suchoon Mo I procrastinated for nine months before I was born I have procrastinated  up to now since I was born I might as well p...