by Robert Fillman A century has passed since you straddled that log, delicate neck stretching to meet the creek’s surface, snout skimming...

By Benjamin Harnett I’d been in a funk lately but I’m out of it now— write that in your dream book, why don’t you! What is it about the...

By Ken Meisel Off Highway 5, in the San Joaquin Valley, I spotted a gold finch, his yellow shoulders prideful, glorious, like poured...

By Ahrend Torrey —this moment swelling like a bulb before your eyes, holding Sun slowly illuminating the blinds. Do you hear the wren...

By Benjamin Harnett Everything you think you know about some flowers is wrong, is what this bouquet seems to say, as we feed it to the...

By Robert Rothman I know of no deeper orange than a poppy sprung in spring, cracking open hard earth on a slender green stem, all the...

By James Dewey measure the place with your own two feet count height & length & width      with breath walk & run the streets to know...

By King Grossman Through the gray blanketing clouds a breakthrough of silver stop and look stop everything when the blue dog is most low...

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...

by Rochelle Jewel Shapiro I want you, my husband, in your nursing-home bed, no longer able to breathe while you chew, sustained on...

by Rochelle Jewel Shapiro Hurricane Donna, September 1960 When the sea meets the bay, water bursts like a bomb over docks, breaks the...

By Mark Watney Behold! How gladly22 it is    how goodly23 it is when two brothers    build together an earth-dwelling24    a hobbit-hole...

by Lynn Glicklich Cohen To be deft means unleashing shackles of technique into a swarm of skill, pure abandonment of steps; you lift off...

by Linda Mills Woolsey “Can I put the dollar in for you?” she asks. Her dark eyes shine like molasses in sunlight, her scraped-back hair...

by Linda Mills Woolsey For months we’ve been stirring and stirring strange thoughts, awash in a sea of angers, watching ideas swirl,...

by Mary Beth Hines The girl who lives next door watches the quiet backlit drama unfold from beneath the willow tree in Alonzo’s backyard....

by Matthew Miller Your silence is a gift. A sand partridge quivering and whistling. We furnish the path for ourselves, for now, giving...

by Linda Mills Woolsey When I consider the buzz of feeding on nectar, the bluebottle’s heady dazzle, azure to rival even the dragonfly’s,...

by Catherine McGuire At first, the air, alive – you think chaff… gnats. But the single note from a thousand throats strums the...