Southern Cliffs
~Jeffrey Taylor
Astronomical Picture of the Day
brings me a bit of beauty every morning.
Doctor’s orders. He’s trying to heal
my overly analytical mind. They are beautiful,
awesome. The Southern Cliffs are
a small part of the Lagoon Nebula.
Taking in the whole nebula,
you might miss them.
These insignificant features
are ten light years high. Bigger
than our whole solar system.
I conceive of God big enough
to manage our solar system.
Way too small.
but something small and daring…
~M.C. Aster
In the Foothills
~M. C. Aster
It’s still winter here on the montane slopes, and
a nightly chill gleefully abuses any brave new
shoots. Surprisingly, lemon blossoms are a
sturdy lot; should a warmer day slip in, they
open fully to welcome the cold-dazzled bees.
Gray clouds keep chasing the sunshine away
and a cool wind is soft as he sways the still
dormant branches. Yet his soothing message
is false; just this morning he turned the world
snow white with scatters of hail. His wintry
kiss is melting now, though his icy breath
remains. But something small and daring just
put him on notice—the first peach blossom
is open, flaunting its pink defiance.
A Moment in Heron Time
~M. C. Aster
The ebbing afternoon has paused its flow
toward sunset—waylaid perhaps, by a blue
heron’s reflection trembling in the ripples.
The heron’s garden statuary pose doesn’t
last; he strikes so fast it seems he’d never
moved. But a small silver life wriggles in
his long beak—proof positive he just did.
New wavelets wobble and roll as they build
the heron his new reflection. The air’s very
still, as if weighed down by indecision
whether to celebrate or to mourn.
A moment of beauty.
A moment of death.
In the here and now, they just might be
one and the same.
The Shape a Leaf Made in Concrete While Hardening
~Michael Vecchio
At the edges where the leaf met
Mortar, it separated out
A water boundary
& then formed a micro-sediment
In a thin film
Where morning light wrestled
& pulled a thread along
Then a droplet before seeping
Came forward and made a beige/green
Appearance from the gray.
All thoughts of permanence
And of the ephemeral
Seemed, in that moment,
Collapsed into this border
Where once attached the farthest
Extent of a Birch tree –
The leaf itself
Now met the contrived mixture
Authored by humans
To harden,
of all things, the very
Earth we walk upon
Into something impenetrable.
untitled
~Michael Vecchio
Sleeping with peace
And waking the same way
When pale green leaves
Fade to orange
A truce time made
With the season
Revealed itself
To be a color change.
No one said anything
But the elegance death had
To foreshadow its arrival
With a final, deep red
Spread speechlessness
In the wind, and
Those fallen were lifted.
your breath is a prayer
~Susan Donnelly
Autumn Lessons I Did Not Learn in School
~Susan Donnelly
Stand still and listen
to November winds whisper
that you are always
and never alone.
Find meaning in the last apples
as they cling to damp branches,
shrouding their sweetness
behind cracking thick skins.
Taste the growing darkness;
savor the possibilities
that cannot exist
in bright sunlight.
Remember to clip your toenails
while you can still reach them
and before they punch holes
in your favorite wool socks.
Don’t quit before you prove
your breath is a prayer.
The Thing About the Good
~Susan Donnelly
life is that it lives
in dusty corners
where it is easy
to overlook. It skips
ahead of you
on cracked sidewalks
during damp dog
walks. It blossoms
between soggy leaves
of frost nipped
first crocuses. It beckons
in the caws of crows
massing for the evening
roost in dense
doug firs. It warms
your house when your friend,
Gratitude, drops by
for the weekend
and doesn’t mention
that the sheets
should have been
changed, or that you need
a haircut. The good life
is always ready
to deal you some aces
and kings, maybe
a strong hand
with a royal run
of diamonds. It won’t
rent a U-Haul and move
across the country,
or leave you
for a young partner. Oh,
the good life needs
very little, only
short visits from your eyes
and your heart.