Category: Issue 25.1

spring equinox a crack splits the frozen river  

river rush trees green into birdsong

the rite of spring piccolos rush the conductor  

new regime… daffodils gauge the weight of each snowflake  

negotiations another day of snow  

left up all winter signs from fall’s election warped

newsindigestiblebytes

dinner date all his attention on the menu  

wet leaves clinging to my shoes… new resolutions  

Whispering Wind   On my early morning walks, I often search for the red-tailed hawk perched in the topmost branch of a cottonwood. From this vantage point, she

a hawk soars over this snowbright mountain —first dream of the year  

subtle shifts of a swallow-tailed kite twilight jazz

Gita chanting birds become the ellipsis       (Originally received an Akita International Haiku Award, September 2014, Honourable Mention)

awakenings the ping of first sap in the bucket  

seventh heaven a lotus breaks the surface

the call to prayers — in the din of Diwali a ghee lamp glistens

zen garden cat prints through the raked sand  

dreamworker the dog at the door of childhood  

grave frost in my cupped hands a robin’s weight  

church bells reaching for belief

the vows I’ve made— moving the hose from tree to tree

grieving a fire I embroider trees my needle a wand raising old growth if only on cloth  

redwoods strengthening my password to blue sky

a half-moon— the things she remembers she soon forgets  

multiverse – the thirty-six views of Mount Fuji    

small talk a tongue of fog creeps up the coast   (Originally published online in Ginza Poetry Society Kukai)

talking politics my line hangs up in the lake bed  

the fire in his belly brook trout    

dusk a fluff of cottonwood wends its way to the pond  

Roadside Rationalizing I never have a plan. Like a watermelon at the end of its vine, I find myself where I’m supposed to be. out of gas another shooting star  

another stranger far from home… lone coyote  

mesa shadows sheltering briefly in the adobe ruins

canyon wren – a concert in the cacti

bird nest in the porch light Mother’s Day  

Mother’s Day — in her 50s cookbook handwritten notes

family tree the twist of a strangler fig  

wing-worn geese … this urge to leave home to find home    

gated complex in the grip of wisteria  

moment of silence— dry ice fog drifting to the end zone  

valley mist the things I might have been    

garage sale a rusty coffee can full of pennies old vinyls the wobble   (The above is a tan renga written by Billie Dee, San Miguel, New Mexico, USA and Richard L.

spring wind a wheelchair sways to Zumba beats  

farmers’ market the crisp snap of a paper sack

cricket sounds his story loops back to the start

The Photo I Didn’t Take It’s misting heavily, and two city workers, street sweepers, are smoking beneath a ledge. Above them, pigeons huddle and sink their heads into

nyc so many ppl idk    

starlight the right of asylum  

winter clouds— the torn teddy bear of a homeless child  

the long crack in the prison wall winter twilight  

shortcut a train ticket in a crow’s beak  

caws becoming specks becoming crows

the child that never came to be… face in a cloud       (Originally published in Blithe Spirit, Volume 34 / 3)

earthworms at the doorstep winter rain  

winter grazing the hoof prints of cattle gone to slaughter  

polar vortex an anchor of ice steadies the lake

wedding anniversary gold larches in the rain  

bus stop twilight … I inhale every puff of a stranger’s cigarette, the favorite brand of my deceased father

a cocoon stirs graduation day

lake shimmer a jetty stretches towards dawn

heat lightning cease fire on the horizon  

fence line – the weeds stand their ground  

golden anniversary the chipped coffee cups she pours into  

so long since our last kiss . . . puckered blueberries  

origami a heron’s neck folded in sleep  

summer morning the lightness of white linen  

two weeks since losing the baby withering heat

Summer afternoon a Bach sonata cools the air  

inlet sunset fog tendrils trailing the last lobster boat

independence day a sweep of egrets over the twilit lake  

three beach chairs empty, but for one first star  

gathering calls of oystercatchers the wind

neon puddles the whoosh of traffic on a summer night

beach resort hotel the gift shop price of a sand dollar  

roaming the boardwalk to the end of summer romance  

the chill in the mannequin’s eyes end of summer sale  

barnacled rock the sea claims its own