a painting by Hanna Rul

by Chris Wardle
Praising, rising, raising
the spectral shimmering
of this wavering twilight,
misty thunderstorm remnants
lift reality’s fading vision
of a whole field moving
obscured, yearning
learning to dance, entranced
by this one evening’s mystical turning.
by John RC Potter
Definition: “Finding joy in someone’s misfortune”
This is a German word,
it holds a rhythmic resonance.
It has a pleasing sound,
yet points to a type of penance.

by Stylianos Splinis
Still so much is held deep within me,
My wings, my story, I cannot escape how it chains me.
Read More »by Duane Anderson
I was the robin’s biggest fan today
as I watered the grass in our yard,
its reward, a big fat worm in its beak.
by Matias Travieso-Diaz
Compared to a star, we are like mayflies, fleeting ephemeral creatures who live out their lives in the course of a single day.
– Carl Sagan
The round, whitish egg that was to become Dolania[1], the heroine of our story, was among a thousand-plus identical ones deposited by their mother as she dipped her abdomen into the river’s water during flight, releasing a small batch of eggs each time. As their mother died and floated away, the eggs sank to the murky river bottom.
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