by Nancy Machlis Rechtman She feels her way through the dappled landscapeCradling the memories of a time when it was filled with lightAnd hopeAnd dreamsInstead of this endless echo chamberOf lonelinessWhere she now resides. The sun has yielded to the moon’s prowessSinking slowly across the Western skyBut this is no…
By James Rushmore The waxing moon balances on the pine. Lonely brook meanders through the scrub brush, The mayflies hatch without mouths; No need to Eat; But just to make love without kissing. The June night befalls the fallen fish mine, The honey bees sleep, the petals close; lush. A…
