by Nicole Cardillo Barisic, 2026

The red highlights in her hair

catch the sunset splashing

in golden amber tones.

A plaid poncho she wears

streams behind her in the breeze,

pulling at her neck in liberation

attempts.

Her feet make imprints in the sand

where the tide rolls in,

lasting longer in spots where she

paused

to place a piece of wampum

or beach glass

in the wool folds of her cape.

She sees faces in the knots

of driftwood,

vitality in the shipwrecked

starfish,

shapes in sea polished rocks.

As I watch from a distance

I remember her pattern

of walking,

seeking,

saving,

continuing.

Her movements become

predictable,

as consistent as

signals from a lighthouse

beckoning lost ships

to harbor.

The Beachcomber is the

bright light

that guides her loved ones

home.

by Anne Kelly-Edmunds, 2026

First Tulip

A hint of yellow runs

upward like a seam,

promises to rent

the tight fabric bud

of thick verdant protection

against spring’s fickle days

and chilly nights.

Soon, petals that glow

like noontime sunshine

will unfold upward,

open to cup a star

of six jet-black pistils

surrounding the white-gold

gift of stamen.

by Tom Bradley, 2026

Beauty Scorned
and Labeled Wrong
The Dandelion Known as a Weed
Its grounded rosette base
Produce basil leaves of taste
And its florets are of beauty indeed.
—t.f.b.

by Tom Bradley, 2026

Daily road kill of squirrels makes for contented crows
Prepared to their liking
With delicious pureed guts
Served on a platter of asphalt
Road squirrel crepe . . .
Curious meal for a Murder of Crows.

                                                                    ~ t.f.b.

by LM Anderson, 2026

My Fathers’ Eyes

There’s a quiet ache that lingers near,

A space that never fades with time—

A longing…wrapped in memory,

A love that still feels so alive.

I miss those eyes that knew me well,

that saw my heart without a sound.

Held me steady when I fell…

and lifted me when I felt ungrounded.

They spoke in ways no words could touch,

A glance that said, “You’ll be okay,”

A softness, strength… steady truth

That never once could drift away.

Now I search for them in skies,

In golden light, in passing days—

but nothing quite replaces

The comfort of my fathers’ gaze.

Still somehow, deep within my soul…

I feel them there, so calm, so wise…

Watching over all I am—

I still live in my fathers’ eyes.

by Catherine Louise, 2026

Early Spring

Now is the time of new beginnings and second chances to start again.

Things once thought to be stagnant  transform  into motion

Seedlings push through the earth in a process to find the sun.

The weak inspire to be stronger, ideas create vision.

Grays and beige sink into the background while patches of green and pastels of color bond forming ideas of the new.

A bed of hope presents itself now for the weary souls to lay their head.

The stronger search for the weary everywhere missing them and the space they once held.

Darkness is captured by the light, vegetation begins to bloom as all reach out together once more among the forsythia of hope

Catherine Louise

2026

by Benjamin Thomas Brehl (Ben), 2026

Other people were laughing, smiling; seemingly having a good time

Then there was me  —  with my sad face. Going out of my mind.  Full of ME..

Isolated, quiet, helpless, hopeless  —  my fears got the best of me

If only they knew what I wanted to express  —  to have them hear and see

But, as the night winded down, I relaxed and became serene

My dreads and apprehension were quenched  —  the night had become un-mean

Feeling rejuvenated and new  —  wanting to share my newfound start..

I tapped someone I knew on the shoulder; I smiled from my Heart.

I lay in bed that night  —  I wondered about the cause of the change

The numbness I still felt had been lifted for short lapse of sweet peace

Ten years have gone by since that night of glimpsed Hope into the yonder

A reward of placidness of spirit is here… Upwards I do look..!

by Tom Bradley, 2026

Albums – Compilations of Musical Emotions –

Chisels Their Memories into Mind –

~ Then ~

Listened to Decades Later –

 The Stylist Pushes Aside Gathered Dust of Distortion –

And Exposes a Small Part of the Memory –

 And with it – a Vibrant Twinge of its Bygone Feeling –

    It’s Music – Along with the Smell of Vinyl and Pulp –

 All Potent Stimulators of Past Euphoria

by Heidi M. MacAlpine, 2026

by Barbara Progebin Graffe 2025, 2026

Now, I can listen when wearing my hearing aids.

Sometimes, I must set them on low volumes to hear voices that are too loud.

Other times, I must set each aid to high volumes when voices are too low.

I can listen now, but will I listen in the future?

Will I listen to birds singing songs?

Will I listen to airplanes flying above?

Will I listen to a baby’s cry or a child’s laugh?

Will I listen to my own voice as I speak my words from deep within me?

Now, I can only listen when wearing the hearing aids that I can afford.

I cannot afford the aids that I really need

To block loud voices and background sounds

That overpower my ability to listen.

I cry as I think of the future

And I sob with much fear

As I ask myself

How will I listen?