Poetry

by Kevin T. McEneaney      for Douglas Grandgeorge The book lay closed on the table, yet he could read it; he knew the surface and below the surface where wisdom…

by Kevin T. McEneaney end of snowy pelt mid-winter ice melt   small humps of ice dirty, not nice   fevered plant or two poke ice-crust through   as snow…

by Kevin T. McEneaney The House of Laws mourns for the loss of its dignity. The labyrinth of law and decorum echoes in silent objection to its violation before the…

by Kevin T. McEneaney Nonchalant Reverend Junco says Hi! Superstitious Morning Dove says Goodbye! Postal Deliverer Chickadee, here… Wren, a delicate dancer, conjures charm… Bluejay crowd, big bullies of the…

by Philip Brady   There were snowdrops in the graveyard today, First growth of the season, or maybe last. Nature has its own calculating way With calendar for future times…

by Kevin T. McEneaney When there’s frost painted on nose, ice in toes, fingers split on many digits, can’t move, ice clinging to eyelids, beard, and nose hairs, ears screaming…

by Kevin T. McEneaney Sleeping with rainfall is a luxury to be savored like excellent coffee!     Long ago, little could be accomplished when it rained: carve wood, make…

by Desmond Egan exhausted from banging and buzzinghow bewildered he isas he crawls is crawling up the pane of light beware of the web poor small creaturethrown like us against…

by Kevin T. McEneaney You don’t have to be Euclid to wonder at the proportions of rugged beauty that assault the eyes of the beholder at Machu Picchu in sunshine…