Issue 25.2 – tinywords

Welcome to tinywords issue 25.2

Welcome to a new issue and congratulations to our three writing prompt winners, Sam Bateman, Dave Bonta, and Rich Schilling, whose poems appear below.

unless it is too late summer roses

the surprise of late love heirloom peaches

garden wealth we force zucchini on everyone

windfall apples all the promises I didn’t keep

you and me a log that won’t catch

after the fire ponderosa pines graph the forecast

a different cool than the Douglas firs redwood shade

sleepless above this heat the night sky

starlit pond… a paper boat floats for light years

night swamp all that jazz

quiet pond the dash-dot message of waterlilies

ripples upon ripples water striders in the rain

lily pad a dragonfly’s now syncs with mine

night rain the crickets too have stopped to listen

Back from vacation— our finicky roses blooming better than ever

half-open roses the soloist’s bouquet allegro non troppo

wind-dried beach cobbles the grey seals singing each to each

thunderhead— the crack of bighorn sheep

village well the clink-clank of copper pots in chorus

making do wild ducks dabble in a roadside puddle

high surf before the hurricane . . . plovers huddle in the dunes

cold night on the dunes a book of constellations

asteroid belt a good enough reason for clutching one’s pearls

dawn chorus starlinging me out of night terrors (haiga)

saving daylight the translucent leaves of October

smile lines an old farmer’s roadside pumpkins

every day more like a crone the carved pumpkin

last time through the corn maze . . . All Hallow’s Eve

lingering spirits Halloween merges with the Day of the Dead

contrails our slow disintegration

political coup the sand dune takes a new shape overnight

broken window— seeing the world as it is

broken walls a blackbird’s song braids the wind

following a cricket into the cairn eventide

playground within the rolling leaves a hollow

childhood friend … we fill in the gaps all afternoon

airplane crossing the sky in the toddler’s eyes

detainment cell another game of peek-a-boo

cold drizzle when did it start this talking to myself

slow-moving clouds a painted turtle conceals her roadside nest

swaying grasses the wordless refrain of a lullaby

long day the toddler’s nap the length of an eyelash

older the same stars my parents had

another road trip in me autumn wind

a bubbly effervescence in her voice the stream after rain

steel sky the sudden splash of a carp

lights of a farm letting the horse choose its own path

biophony all the ways to say grace

colour wheel what the hummingbird tastes (haiga)

skimming the pages of a new field guide call of the flycatcher

quail call the blind setter frozen on point

brooding over my dog’s death I miss the first nightingale

only child without a child winter moon (Originally published in The Heron’s Nest XXVI:1)

day of surgery this sudden interest in my lifeline

retirement . . . Monday slips in unnoticed

another morning with dust on the desk tired of meeting a deadline that always returns

long workday . . . I sit in the garage till the Zeppelin ends

in spite of all my failures forsythia

waterfalling the metallic teal peacock’s tail (haiga)

winter light saguaros hold the sky

crescent moon a foal’s whisker bends toward milk

jacaranda rain a petal rides her ponytail

sunrise sediment settles in the teacup

i think of moths, but i mostly think of candles the winter solstice

family reunion the grandfather surrounded by strangers

dazed elegance at the reunion party star-gazer lilies

Hubble Telescope a closer look at the god particle

first Christmas instructions not included

colder nights . . . the muezzin’s call a little late

the year's coldest night a barbershop quartet warms up

corner pub as much location as anything

shucking oysters the talk turns to our inner lives

new year’s day turning over a throw rug to hide the stains

she understands the language of frogs summer wind (haiga)

outside my morning window mountains rise into light & shadow this late summer day

sap rise the long gleam of the river

My old kaleidoscope -- i look for the boy

the market value of my childhood . . . antiques fair

lone walk… a street dog’s bark for company