rising suddenly
over the amber street light-
a copycat moon

*

four winds haiga

Our Discovery Apple tree, alive with red Admiral butterflies seeking the ripest fruit in the September sunshine.

*

Caroline M. Davies
Advancing Poetry

The scribbled silhouettes of bare trees, the shapes of unfurling hedgerows, long whiskery brown grass, an open field flashing past for a fleeting moment, then lost again in the dark.

*

Katherine Woodfine
follow the yellow brick road

Sidereal

Alone at night on a dock,
crouched low on wooden boards,
edge of a cool November lake.
Black water mirrors a moon
suspended above cedars–
we wend our way, the moon and I,
across a midnight streaked with stars.

*

Christine Swint
balanced on the edge

sparrows sip thaw beads a warmth has sweated off four frosts

*

Gordon Mason
Catapult To Mars

A tracing paper day. The sky and ‘scape grey and blurred at the edges.

*

Kristina Meredith
The Apprentice Writer

Mid-August, Hotel Pool, 1928

Despite the heat,
Henry starts
to shiver.

*

Jeff Fleming
nibble - a poetry magazine

The scarlet jam flows like hot lava onto the cool pale pavement. Small salty tears trickle down sugar covered cheeks as sticky fingers reach for the fallen treat.

*

Jo Cooper
Reason, Season or Lifetime

The last leaves of autumn crunch underfoot, crisp as cornflakes.

*

Lorna Senior

Evening gloom like a glove slips over the street
swats away the sun, leaving a yellow smear
in the darkening sky, darkening.

*

Matthew Friday
Matthew Friday

In Madrid, I stand
Alive, before Guernika

*

Irene Cunningham
Runaway Granny

the interstate's a runway for the fall fashion statements of the trees

*

Charlotte Babb
Miss Charlotte's Babblings

each morning from my bedroom window, through the open red shutters, the topmost leaves of the plane trees, and above, the crown of a palm stamped against a blue sky

*

Lynne Rees
an open field

The dogs sleep sprawled across the hall like scattered stones--place markers for where I've been and where I'm going.

*

Sage Cohen
Sage A Vu

Three Goldfinches sway in the fading lavender.

*

Annie Kerr
Ink haven

Birds flock to the trees in my yard, and I have nothing to say to them.

*

Dana Guthrie Martin
my gorgeous somewhere

in the puddle, rings. the premonition of rain.

*

jem
-the sound of splinters-

Spiteful

Sophie arrived, heavily pregnant. Rose and I hadn't known.

*

Martin Reed
worded

The sound of a moth, clattering battering bludgeoning itself against the midnight streetlamp.

*

Andy Fryer
A Half-Remembered Life

a gust of wind scattering rooks over the hospital

*

Matt Morden
Morden Haiku

The evening breeze pebbles my skin as the blackbird sings her lullaby.

*

Marie Fullerton

the butterfly pauses

in the hedge just above the woman's head as I pass, like an animated fascinator

*

Joanna Quinn
All of these things are true and not true

A huge fly climbs up the window, falls and begins climbing again.

*

Clare Grant
Three Beautiful Things

Sunshine through raindrops
in the early morning light
remind me of home.

*

Rachel Green
When The Dogs Bite

Early evening revelation

The mirror throws a shaft of sunlight into the dark corner of the room, lighting up the jar of water and sable brushes like a lantern.

*

John Loader

The sound of and putters on and the first thing is lost.

*

We liked it but not quite enough

Old gypsy caravan, hemmed in by degrading concrete and rusting metal, your brightly coloured paint the only joy in your surroundings.

*

David Penhallow

What is not the darkness of tree tips
is star field

*

Richard Powell
Still in the Stream

shattered granite
abandoned in the snow
just so

*

Ed Pickett
Tactical Awareness Institute

Sunrise: The moon's still up, that party girl, exuberant streamers floating reluctantly to earth; morning painting the tree trunks.

*

Elizabeth Westmark
Switched at Birth