Horse Tradition

by Mary Wlodarski Like all tradition, a habit becomes ritual. Soon humans forget why we started. It could be the practice of checking a gate, or filling extra w...

Cinnabar

by Miranda Cichy You might ask why this ragwort finds itself piped with striped icing – liquorice and caramel slinking in sync. Why the eye snags on that which ...

Look, a Lizard!

by Rick Kempa or rather, the lizard, my neighbor (not my “pet”) who, like me, spends the day moving in and out of the sun, I with my lawn chair, he (less laden)...

Equivocal

by Jane Lovell Light spills both ways: silhouetting stands of blackthorn on the lane and climbing the slow hill, striping the turf, its grey horse racing a big ...

Emptying Nest

by Bonnie Riedinger In their dawn state Twig legs teeter On the cusp of flight or plummet. Poised, but flustered They hover above Ouroboros Coiled dark, Bound s...

The Bird

by Holly Day The tiny bird flaps in the grass near me watches my approach with eyes like glass beads opens its mouth as if expecting random acts of maternal kin...