Sometimes, it is just a question of getting where we know the path will lead, but slowly.

A bee finds the lone flower in a field of weeds, a patch of sunlight slants its way into the deep forest and a cellist’s bow finds exactly the right note.

In the sins of my youth three patterns emerge

you will change every day –

Time splices our years together in quirky remix

She was  young, strong, undone.  I could just imagine how you tipped  your glasses to each other

by Kenneth Reimer Eagle’s flight at dawn – the sleepy boat shakes droplets of night from its sails.   Kenneth D. Reimer lives on the...

      this sudden burst of life, verdant and alive,    as if unable to wait       the celebration

Dusk on the Island and I look east to the mainland coast.

Your hands, the rough and calloused ones that worked great wonders feeding thousands, healing blind and palsied poor.

Spinning Earth and Moon shift us from light to shadow and pull the swollen water back high onto the shores of Western Bay.

Morning swells like a leaven as I follow my hunger

The mist of morning shreds in streams Revealing hints of sky...

I can hold it, cup its six pounds in my hands, feel its rough, hard mass and trace the hewn path

your plum-rounded face and your plum- darkened pupils, soft

The midsummer dawn has barely opened its dreamy eyes. One river flows peacefully between reed and pebble under the weight of a blanket...

Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost;

By Birdie Marie Rodriguez She sailed away on the feathers of a heavenly thing that broke me. Selah. There is a wonder in the sorrow of...

By Ahrend Torrey Had you slept-in this quiet Monday,       you wouldn’t have heard it. Had you gone to the grocery,       you wouldn’t...

By Lynn Glicklich Cohen A doctor’s waiting room—where everyone who came in after you is called first—is a fine place to inspect the...