Monday, 26 November 2012

The Seasons

Winter

Small creatures write letters
to the morning in the snow.

Spring

Each flower waits for its moment
to step upon the stage.

Summer

Now is the time for dancing most of all.

Fall

Curled leaves beneath my feet and
early morning doesn’t beckon any more.

*

David Fraser

Sunday, 25 November 2012


From
far above,
hawk-vision: roofs
fields estuary - a breathtaking
sight.



*

Claudia Messelodi

Saturday, 24 November 2012

forgotten adventures--
my childhood in a basket
of toys

*

Vibeke Laier

Friday, 23 November 2012

Outside the craft fair, ash trees:
gold leaves, red berries, fresh snow.
Inside, nothing prettier.

*

Sue Blott

Sunday, 18 November 2012

Cool Draughts

This day--
Celebrating--
Sends forth the breeze
Like wine
Amazingly thin
Drinkable
And delicious

*

Lyn C. A. Gardner

Saturday, 17 November 2012

One woman’s garden—so lush with lupine and coreopsis,
the hummingbirds are thick as flies.

*

Kathleen Brewin Lewis

Friday, 16 November 2012

We are All So Vulnerable

In all the rivers of the world,
at this moment, a little bird
is drinking in the shallows where
the danger lurks.

*

David Fraser

Thursday, 15 November 2012

languages take root in one another, weed-like. sounds originate from other sounds, and are strung together: new necklace, but the same old beads.

*

Camille Thigpen

Wednesday, 14 November 2012

Soon, hollow thunder.
Morning drops her bar of soap
in her antique tub.

*

M. Flynn Ragland

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

summer breeze--
a dragon fly
across the white waterlily

*

Vibeke Laier

Monday, 12 November 2012

Cat pads down the basement steps;
his tail a disappearing question mark.

*

Sue Blott

Sunday, 11 November 2012

Deep Wood

A cater-

   pillar

      crosses

   & re-

      crosses

   the black-

jack

   oak.



      All morn-

   ing he

winds

   down-

      ward

   with the

sun.

   Until fin-



      ally,

   stones

&

   lichen

      crawl

   with day-

light.

   The



      bright 

   leg

of morn-

   ing

      bristles

        over

    leaf-

fall;



         darkness

disappear-

     ing into

          the mush-

     room’s

slen-

     der

          throat.

*


Al Ortolani

Saturday, 10 November 2012


Glittering surface,
the last boat comes back safe, led
by the crescent moon.

*

Claudia Messelodi

Friday, 9 November 2012

On the Patio


Speckles of light on the scarred brick seemed the work of some mad watercolorist, the sky’s blue washed in between the leaves, the fern’s lampblack shadows.
*
M. Flynn Ragland

Thursday, 8 November 2012

Late season butterflies hadron-accelerated in sudden gusts

*

Caroline Howlett

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Soap suds swoosh and swirl in the glass -
Mesmerizing,
Taming my tumbling thoughts

*

Maureen Bailey

Tuesday, 6 November 2012

autumn’s barren beach
sunburned tourists disappear
sad summer sandal

*

Sandy Patton

Monday, 5 November 2012

lights stick, skittish, to illuminating a riverbed ceiling. (but they shimmer all around.)

*

Camille Thigpen

Sunday, 4 November 2012

Saturday, 3 November 2012

terrorists
of the commonplace
dandelions
exploding
in tiny yellow fury

*

James Newton

Friday, 2 November 2012

Over forged cattails,
a bronze casting of the moon
hangs through darkened leaves.

*

M. Flynn Ragland

Thursday, 1 November 2012

Autumn

Just like that, before I knew it,
25 years had gone,
the children were grown,
and I was out on the deck
with my wife watching the dry,
brown leaves fall silently
to the ground.

*

Michael Estabrook