An Online Literary Journal for Poetry and Flash

Tag: wildflowers

Charles Reznikoff Appraises the Zinnia

Poetry by Deborah H. Doolittle

These days the zinnias in the garden
awake at dawn and await the sun
to open up before them
like the one blossom they’d all like to become.

Let other flowers bloom as dreams
beneath other people’s windows
and rise up from their cultivated beds
in clumps of ordinary color.

These zinnias leap into the air
and broadcast their ambition across the lawn,
not a petal out of place
but has known the touch of dew.


Deborah H. Doolittle has lived in lots of different places, but now calls North Carolina home. A Pushcart Prize nominee, she is the author of Floribunda, and three chapbooks No Crazy Notions, That Echo, and Bogbound. When not editing BRILLIG: a micro lit mag, she is training for road races or practicing yoga.

This Morning

Poetry by Kate McNairy

I’ve been longing for you,
minutes dog my hours—

a prism splits
early morning light.

There’s so much chatter
among colors

that I am not alone—
there is so much to feel

& in a clump of orange
tiger lilies by the road

petal touches petal.


Kate McNairy has a forthcoming chapbook from Finishing Line Press. Her work appears in Third Wednesday, Raven’s Perch and The Bluebird Word, among other journals. Kate lives in upstate New York.

Planting Wildflowers by Lake Champlain

Poetry by Christine Andersen

My daughter and her husband
renovated a house on Lake Champlain.
She sent pictures of the expansive view
from their living room,
how the magenta sunset tinged the water,
the way grass was filling in on the slope leading down to the dock.

A few doors down, her mother-in-law is disappearing.
She can’t remember where the silverware drawer is
or how the pocket door slides open.
She tells the same stories over and over
as if delivering new news.
Stares at the lake trying to recall its name.

My son-in-law bought several packages of wildflower
seeds and tilled the ground close to the shore.
He had visions of daisies and Queen Anne’s lace
and an assortment of yellow, purple, and red blossoms
leaning on green stems with bees and butterflies feeding,
the ground firmly set against heavy rain by the tangle of roots.

Wildflowers can bring the outside indoors.
Would perhaps help his mother remember
daisies were always her favorite flower.
How she would set them on the breakfast table
when he picked them for her as a young boy.
They would pluck the petals one by one,
say, “I love you, I love you not,”
always magically ending on “I love you.”

When the daisies grew in clumps,
he carried a bouquet of memory to her doorstep
and handed her a flower.
She haltingly plucked the white petals one by one,
placed them in his outstretched hand.
Whispered in a child’s voice, “I love you.”


Christine Andersen is a retired dyslexia specialist who lives in Connecticut with five hounds. She has published over 100 poems. Her poetry book “To Maggie Wherever You’ve Gone” won the 2025 Jonathan Holden Poetry Chapbook Contest sponsored by Choeofpleirn Press.

Annual Report

Poetry by William Swarts

Exaggerate old metaphor, expand it
out of all proportion, over-inflate
the usual occasion: each tulip is
a microphone broadcasting the season,
every daffodil a brash loudspeaker
trumpeting a processional for the sun.
Now a glory of color covers the earth,
stridently smothers the hush of grass
growing green and too abundantly
while spring waxes the way to winter.


William Swarts is the author of “Harmonies Unheard,” “Strickland Plains and Other Poems” and “Treehouse of the Mind.” He won First Prize in the Litchfield Review‘s annual Poetry Contest. He studied with Bolligen Prize-winner David Ignatow at the 92nd Street YM-YWHA Poetry Center in New York City.

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