Tag: spring

Spring

1 June 2024 / Editor

Poetry by Nancy Byrne Iannucci

My cat ran when Hedwig’s Theme began.
I thought cats were in tune with all things witch
and supernatural. Or can he sense the change?
House finches are all the teeth-chattering rage.
He spent the afternoon trying to destroy a toy hummingbird in celebration.
He fell asleep with the bird beside him like a teddy bear.
Hedwig’s turn will come when the mood shifts the sun,
the day loses light, and the night howls for the owl.
But for now, spring is here, filled with frantic nest building.

Nancy Byrne Iannucci lives in Troy, NY with her two cats: Nash and Emily Dickinson. She has been published in multiple literary journals and is the author of three chapbooks: Temptation of Wood (Nixes Mate Review, 2018), Goblin Fruit (Impspired, 2021), and Primitive Prayer (Plan B Press, fall 2022). Visit www.nancybyrneiannucci.com or on Instagram: @nancybyrneiannucci.

suddenly the third day of spring

1 March 2024 / Editor

Poetry by Cecil Morris

laugh splashing
it is raining
but the sun is out and bright
and somewhere a rainbow
must be refracting missiles of light
must be fracturing tears
and the neighbor children
all three dark-haired slips in single digits
are outside and laughing
and squealing and opening their mouths
and pointing erupting glee
rain with sunshine
big juicy flashing drops
wetting their bare arms
darkening their dark heads
hearty fat drops smacking
sun-warmed concrete
with satisfying, cartoonish splats
the best of everything
how little it takes
to engender joy
laugh flashing

Cecil Morris retired after 37 years of teaching high school English and now tries writing himself what he spent so many years teaching others to understand and (maybe) enjoy. He has poems appearing in Ekphrastic Review, Hole in the Head Review, Rust + Moth, Willawaw Journal, and other literary magazines. Read his earlier poem Some Kinder Resolutions for a Better Year in The Bluebird Word.

Early Spring

1 March 2024 / Editor

Poetry by Sharon Scholl

When everything portends,
clings to the edge of not quite yet,
teeters on perhaps.

Just a hint of green
pokes from wilted stalks,
risking little, wary of reversal.

Nothing signals go ahead!
Nothing gestures all safe now
to a land still hovering.

I sit with my seed catalog
deep in petunia fantasies
despite its warning, sow after frost.

Sharon Scholl is an ancient poet (91) still very active as convener of a poetry critique group and poetry editor of a local women’s journal. Her poems currently published are in Front Range Review and Third Wednesday.

Expectations

2 December 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Peter A. Witt

Winter arrived, unpacked its undressed trees,
waters that slowed to an iced tea trickle,
sun that slept late and went to bed early,
harvest moon that had completed its job,
now a memory of witches riding broom
sticks across its surface. We settled in
for weeks of log laying, kernels that
popped with a buttery rhythm, holidays
celebrated with family, few of whom
could remember their meaning, snows
that filled the yard with carrot-eyed statues,
and a groundhog that despised its shadow.
We looked forward to snowdrops,
robins, and waxwings, all harbingers
that warmer days, gentle rains, baby
rabbits, and softer skies were ahead.
All this we could count on year-by-year,
written only in our expectations, played
out with joy, wisdom, and wonder.

Peter A. Witt is a poet, family history writer, active birder and photographer. He took up writing poetry in 2015 from a 43 year university teaching and research career. He lives in Texas. His work has been published in several online and print publications.

Raindrops

16 May 2023 / Editor

Poetry by Diane Webster

From the sculptured
metal of the sunflower head
beads of rain
gather like ripe seeds
dropping to the earth
for next spring’s sprout.

Diane Webster‘s goal is to remain open to poetry ideas in everyday life, nature or an overheard phrase. Diane enjoys the challenge of transforming images into words to fit her poems. Her work has appeared in El Portal, North Dakota Quarterly, New English Review and other literary magazines.

closeup photo of green grass field — Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

To Old Grass and Weeds

3 April 2022 / Editor

Poetry by Darrell Petska

Sap-shorn and light-forsaken,
quashed by winter’s boot

you wait, underground exiles
spending summer’s store
till earth’s cold armor chinks.

Old friends, lend us once more
dreams of sunny surfeit and green delight.
Rekindle our faith that spring winters
snugly in bone as in root:

though shoot and flesh till different fields,
life seeds one urge to rise and thrive.

Darrell Petska is a retired university editor. His poetry and fiction can be found in 3rd Wednesday Magazine, First Literary Review–East, Nixes Mate Review, Verse Virtual, Loch Raven Review and widely elsewhere (conservancies.wordpress.com). A father of five and grandfather of six, he lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with his wife of more than 50 years.