A Feeling Which Needs Sun and Rain to Grow

by Liza Hyatt

Today the wind has been pushing clouds through the sky
like questions pushed into the body.
Rain came and went.
Starlings gathered,
covering the grass with black bodies,
prisming the sun.
Just now, rain came again.
Suddenly, sunlight is throwing spears
through every bead of water.
Glass feathers  fly up from gray bark.
Our star pours down gold seeds
whose white flowers break open
upon my skin and the ground.
A bridge of colors made of shattered fire
arcs above us, sensed before seen.
I didn’t trust my body could see
without my eyes, feel such clarity,
cross the bridges that are offered.
Yesterday I wanted you to give me love whole,
all at once, not in pieces.
Now I am glad you can’t.

 

A Flighty Audience

 by Lylanne Musselman

At Fort Ben, in a shelter,
we poets gathered and
shared our new writings
inspired by nature. We were
intently listening to each other,
when out of the brush,
a Northern Cardinal couple,
settled on a nearby picnic table,
the lady, politely on the bench, and
her man, a bit more flamboyant,
on the table top; he tilted his head
as if he was enjoying our every word,
but our hunch was they were not
there to be lifted by our verse,
they were just casing the place
in hopes of scoring
some dropped popcorn.

 

Reading and Remembering Tracks

by Norbert Krapf

We were there where the water
laps on sandy soil but you cannot
name us unless you can read

the prints our feet left here
when we were searching
for food or drink. Or you

could read about our tracks
in books or on the Internet,
but better you learned from someone

who taught you to read us when
you were younger, someone
who knew us from the experience

of walking in woods along
the banks of a creek that swells
into the size of the river when

the rains come. This way of
learning our identity remains
longer as a part of your looking

and seeing because it was
handed down by someone
who knows us and loves you.

 

Edges

By Eric Williams

Though August humidity lingers
And thunder storms break from the west
Do not search for a grand sign.

Rather regard the maple tree
Even the leaves on the north side
And auburn edges will testify to a gracious turning.

© 2016 by Eric Williams. All rights reserved.