Ann B. Day, Featured, Poetry

One Last Sweet Breath

by Ann B. Day

The last of summer lingers still,
captured in a golden field
beyond the leafless woods.
I’ve come upon it
quite unexpectedly!

Gone are summer sounds
of humming bees and katydids.
They have fled
the early frosts of fall.

Instead, a gentle breeze
stirs the graying goldenrod,
and sun-warmed soil and yellow grass
glow beneath my feet.

Last week we had an early snow,
frosting morning meadows
and whitening pasture slopes
on autumn’s hillside farms.

Nearby, woods were cold and damp,
where scattered sunlight
slipped through bare branches
to dapple leafy paths below.

But, today November’s
noonday sun has filled this field
with hints of summer smells
and tawny tints.

A hidden place I came-upon,
where summer lingers still;
one last sweet breath
before the winter chill.

Featured, Parker Towle, Poetry

Sugarloaf Descent

by Parker Towle

Low trees and scrub
yield to precipitous
scree slope, an irregular
ladder of stone blocks with no
bushes or tree trunks to cling to.
Switchbacks are few. Cooling breeze
above yields to flushing heat and dripping
sweat. We tumble down through a sparse
gnarl of trees with openings to view their tops on
the valley floor like Christmas trees in a bird’s view.
The Carrabassett River in a rush flashes in sunlight
over rocks far below, silent at first, then with a roar.
Ear pop confirms altitude drop, steepness
subsides, and the stream noise rises. We
step in as quick as we can, duck our
heads under a veil of water,
ah, the chill…

Featured, Martha Deborah Hall, Poetry

May Day, 2013

by Martha Deborah Hall

I open all my windows and doors, blast Bocelli singing con te partiro. Let’s dance around our Maypoles, let the breeze sashay in. Driveway snow has been ferreted. Dogwood blossoms graciously undulate in the yard. I log off my computer. May’s file is alive. I find myself humming, “I’ll see you again whenever spring breaks through again.” At my garden gate, I smear some May dew from a daffodil on my palm and enter.

 

Photograph by Linda J Thomas

 

 

Ann B. Day, Featured, Poetry

Morning Delivery

by Ann. B. Day

In the four A.M. dusk
of a summer morning,
my sleep slides away
into sounds that sift into
our upstairs bedroom window:
tires turning on gravel
a truck’s muffled idle,
boots treading on wood planks
of back porch steps,
glass clinking glass.

A moment later,
more boot steps on wood,
scrunch of gravel,
soft closing of the truck door,
gears shift and fade
into the semi-dark.

I reach over to my husband,
Frank’s side of the bed,
find it empty, remembering
it was his turn to make
milk deliveries for the large farm
where he works.

I lie awake and breathe
into the stillness,
waiting for the first pale light
and the call of the hermit thrush
to rise through the window.

In time, I will go down
to the kitchen, open the screen door,
bring in the quart bottles of milk,
with thick cream rising to the top.
We will have cream with our oatmeal
when Frank comes home.

Contributors, Janet Banks

Janet Banks

Janet Banks is a retired business executive and writer who is exploring the joys and challenges of aging in real time. Her personal essays have appeared on WBUR’s Cognoscenti, The Rumpus, and the Silver Birch Press. She has published in the Harvard Business Review and contributed commentary regarding career development to numerous publications.

View Janet’s writing on New England Memories:

Contributors, Lori Douglas Clark

Lori Douglas Clark

Lori Douglas Clark was born and raised in Maine. After college she lived in Pennsylvania, working as a newspaper copy editor at the Wilkes-Barre Times Leader before moving to Fort Worth, Texas, where she was a copywriter for a public relations agency. More recently, she has worked at a public library and as a freelance journalist. She is happy to once again live in her native state, settling with her family in rural Readfield, Maine. Lori began writing poetry a year ago, when she took a poetry class through adult education, which happily has evolved into an informal writer’s group.

View Lori’s poetry on New England Memories:

Contributors, Cynthia Close

Cynthia Close

After several long and productive careers in the arts; MFA from Boston University, Dean of Admissions at The Art Institute of Boston, President of Documentary Educational Resources, a film distribution company, Cynthia Close is now focused on her final journey as a writer. Since 2009 to the present she has been contributing editor for DOCUMENTARY Magazine, contributing writer for Vermont Woman Magazine, and Art Editor for Mud Season Review, a Vermont-based literary and art journal. She also writes creative non-fiction in beautiful Burlington, Vermont with Ethel, her 100 lb St Bernard/Golden Retriever “puppy”.

View Cynthia’s writing on New England Memories:

Contributors, Jamie Colburn

Jamie Colburn

Jamie Colburn is a photographer based out of Greenville, New Hampshire. His main focus is breathtaking landscapes, and an absolute love for wildlife of all varieties. He will never pass up a barn, especially if it’s red! His goal is to capture the beauty of New England and all it has to offer. You can view Jamie’s photography page on Facebook.

View Jamie’s photography on New England Memories: