by Linda Zeigler In my quiet house I sit like a gray Tabby cat curled into myself on the softest cushion in the sunniest window in my favorite room watching the October sky. Wind swept clouds move like a slow motion story across my mind. Birds flutter round the empty feeder and my lazy heart […]

photos and text by Brett Klein SEA TOWN This is a salt steep-cobbled town where every morning the men go down to breathe the sun-wet sea where maples shadow the sloping street and the dawn-cool reek of fog is sweet in the dooryard chestnut tree. This is the place where fishermen stride down to silver […]

By Kristen Lindquist December 10: No Trespassing So much depends upon the grey-shingled shed full of firewood. December 9: Howe Hill deer track hieroglyphs marking the blueberry field the color purple December 8: Consolation Sunset before 4, glorious hot pink and gold– light another candle.

haiku by Kristen Lindquist three turkey feathers flagging the path through the field where I’m meant to go

haikus by Kristen Lindquist Early Morning, Sound Of Feathers I hear wings flapping but fall back asleep too tired yet for the divine. Just Before Dawn Just before dawn a single crow caws– I’m not the only one awake. Sounds Like Spring End of summer– in the backyard phoebe calling again. Night Bells Buoy bell […]

poem by Dave Morrison I should not come to this day empty-handed, If a poem is a song I will clear my throat, If a poem is a painting I will try to find a subject that interests someone besides me, If a poem is an inheritance then I will sit in the lawyer’s waiting […]

poem by Dave Morrison How can I sing with this broken throat, this burned mouth? How can I sing when I drag through the days, wanting only sleep? Very quietly. Every day I will hum notes of gratitude for everything that works and everything that does not hurt and then one day, without even noticing […]

text and haiku by Kristen Lindquist Mount Battie looms out the window of both my house and office. How busy must I have been today not to register such a presence? Almost twilight I realize I haven’t noticed the mountain all day.