Redlights, June 2018:
a newborn fawn
hidden in tall grasses,
with breath so soft
not even a dandelion
stirs

Photograph by Carmen Sterba Russell (used with her permission) (c) 2018
Redlights, June 2018:
a newborn fawn
hidden in tall grasses,
with breath so soft
not even a dandelion
stirs

Photograph by Carmen Sterba Russell (used with her permission) (c) 2018
Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga, Issue, 24, Spring 2018:
two senryu and one kyoka published
pulling a single
strand of silken thread …
her undoing
…
sipping skinny lattés
they march against
world hunger
…
a slight limp
on cold and rainy days
how easy it is
to fall out of step
with myself

Orb Weaver Web / Photo by Robert Potts/Getty Images

Published in Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga, Issue, 24, Spring 2018
Gusts, no. 27, Contemporary Tanka (Canada)
spring/summer 2018
heart fluttering
and eyes closed tight –
it was as if you knew
the swallows had flown
away again
shipwreck spoils
wash back and forth
upon the tide –
notes from other lives
left in sea glass shards
Both tanka (c) 2018, Mary Kendall
The poem, “Flying Against the Wind” is the final poem in my chapbook, Erasing the Doubt, (c) 2015, Finishing Line Press. (The book is available for purchase from Finishing Line Press.)
Flying Against the Wind
Your thoughts drifted out to sea—riding on the wind
like wisps of breath lost on a freezing day.
.
With only the lighthouse for company and water all around,your steady feet were planted firmly on the point.
You looked as if you were an island isolated from the world,
but you were not.
The chill March air made even you feel cold.
You pulled the flapping wings of your jacket closed,
zipped it, and slid your hands deep inside the pockets.
Except for this, you never moved.
You stood there looking at the sea that went on forever,
searching the horizon for clues where it might end.
The wind stung your eyes as waves conjured up whitecaps,
then swept them away like mermaids lost and turned to foam
while currents pulled together and then apart.
A fierce gust blew through your bones, trying to topple you,
but you stood fast. Even sea birds hid behind steep cliffs,
not daring to fly against the wind.

“Arai: Whitecaps on the Ocean (Arai—Enkai hato),” c. 1848-1849, by Utagawa Hiroshige I


Note: This beautiful owl drawing appears on Pinterest, but I was unable to trace it to a specific artist. I am grateful to the unknown artist for putting this lovely piece ‘out there’ for others to view and use.