After the Rain

on the edge of a leaf
a rain drop contemplates

leaping.

*

Karuna Chandrashekar
Tinydancer

the air heavy
with incoming rain
i cradle the nectarine
with both hands
to inhale its scent

*

Aubrie Cox
Yay Words!

The separated half of the motorcycle
walks stiff legged through the crowd
insect head menacing

*

Niall O'Connor
Dublinepost

A sleeve of rain
moves down the beach,
racing the bathers to their cars.

*

Kathleen Brewin Lewis

All White Hair

He is there with all white hair
Eating a great big brownie
And when it gets caught between his teeth It sure does become funny

*

G David Schwartz

this morning, three kinds of blue pills
                                                          and a bird

*

Melissa Allen
Red Dragonfly

shape of an angel all that's left where a wren hit the glass

*

Scott Owens

Charity

Some books are best read
standing upright in Oxfam
with rain dripping
from your moustache,
while all the black umbrellas
drip quietly away.

*

Ian Mullins

Above my head and just out of reach
the bamboo and the willow
share the view of the sky.

*

Teri H Hoover
a small stone gathering

My grandfather’s tongue is too old to protest a movie marathon with lips that move in foreign ways. My mother won’t tell me why. Only that he deserves it.

*

Jessica Negron

Craobh nan Ubhal

apple tree on a spring sabbath
your leaves as still as paint
silent as the old dead
no burden of guilt yet
no sin of fruit yet

*

Marie Marshall
Kvenna ràð

the smell of sagebrush
baking in the sun as we drive across eastern washington
clears the mind
like god's own smudgestick

*

Lara Simmons

When the fence blew down,
the neighbor-lady and I
flirted it back up.

*

Dan Simmons

the tiger swallowtail—
one more reason
I should live

*

Aubrie Cox
Yay Words!

The dusk sky, shaded in greys, sports a ribbon of birds.
Where it began, where it will end is not known. I watch in wonder,
barefoot on the grass, the juice of a stolen plum on my tongue.

*

Charlotte
Chest of Delights

The deep, spiced cocktail of the hedgerow -
honeysuckle, dogshit, wet grass

*

Nikki Magennis

tropical sunset
then suddenly
in this dark city
the stars
are the only streetlights

*

James Newton

He would not, could not, mow the grass
because of the star-shaped violets
amidst the green blades.

*

Kathleen Brewin Lewis

achy joints—
a bag of gummy bears
makes him young again

*

Christine L. Villa

starless night
an unlit cigarette
in the moon's mouth

*

Virginie Colline

inside the shop,
a flapping pigeon―
the young cashier
dropping
every penny

*

Jade Bennington
Blush of Dawn

Every time the fish resists
the river only opens her mouth
wider

*

Karuna Chandrashekar
Tinydancer

Wester Ross: the wind

... an insane modal fifing at the eaves...

*

Marie Marshall
Kvenna ràð

this hot
morning
birds' songs
seem
ominous

*

Carla M Wilson
wet leaves

Crickets

Just outside the window trucks pass; in the intervals crickets make their odd pleasing music.

*

Greg
Enchilada's Blog

barefoot crew—
you see some
awfully bad
toenails
at sea

*

M. Kei

hummingbird:
I barely see its colors —
gone

*

Craig W. Steele

A break in our usual programming...

Hello.

I never get to say 'hello' to you because your beautiful small stones take centre stage here, as they should do.

But this morning I woke up to discover there was no small stone, and so I'll take this opportunity to say not just 'hello', but 'thank you'.

Thank you to all of you out there, writing small stones. Thank you to those who send them in. And thank you to everyone who reads this blog, and who has supported me over the years.

I don't know how many of you know about the other stuff I do (which is growing and growing). You might like some of it. I have a free book about Lorrie and her grey life and her discovery something that helps. With Kaspa I run a marvellous smorgasbord of ecourses (you can get onto the ones starting Monday if you ask me very nicely by the end of the day). We have a free community for writers interested in paying attention. We have a chat once a week and put it online. We interview amazingly creative people every Friday. And that's before breakfast.

If you don't already, do come and say hello to me on Facebook, like our Writing Our Way Home page, and follow me on Twitter.

Do keep reading. Do keep writing small stones. Do keep in touch. Thank you thank you thank you.

Thanks to the grass, the ant is
invisible before
I notice the itch.

*

Allyson Whipple

From departure to destination
an arabesque of free trade coffee
and treacle smiles.

*

Niall O'Connor
Dublinepost