Poetry – New England Memories

Lake Host

by Brenna Manuel “You know bass fishermen…,” he goes on. He cranes his angled cheek up to look one eye closed my way. His torso bends forward straight to make perfect “L” to outboard motor with blades that glisten sharply in the sun. He pauses, sputters, “Best engines…,” he goes on. My brows go up-Continue reading “Lake Host”

Easter Cherog

by Elaine Reardon Sleep and stillness cling to my eyes. Morning light trickles through pine branches into the kitchen where yeast has raised soft pillows of cherog dough overnight. I slide the fragrance of warm yeast into the waiting oven. I kept the fire going last night to coddle the dough, to be kind toContinue reading “Easter Cherog”

Winter Sounds

by Elaine Reardon We’ve gotten used to sounds deep in a winter night, a sharp ping of the wood stove reaching some cooler temperature, muffled tumbles of a smoldering log, the creak of floorboards as if someone walked quietly. Downstairs the refrigerator hums, the water heater readjusts. What is shifting inside this house I wonder,Continue reading “Winter Sounds”

Great Blue Heron on the Swift River

by Linda Warren I vexed a Great Blue Heron as I walked the path along the catch-and-release section of this stream that flows year round, gift of the accidental wilderness around the reservoir that quenches Boston. She didn’t move far, just to another fallen log, an easy pebble toss from where I stood. She lookedContinue reading “Great Blue Heron on the Swift River”

Dappled Days

by Theresa Hickey The grandeur of sky and sea is awesome, but in an orchard, one notices small wonders every season Each turn of weather bears fruit, cleaving to the vines clinging for clemency from storms Dimpled valentines of berries, tiny jewels—red and radiant black and blue—fill baskets Pierced in their prime, flushed pinks andContinue reading “Dappled Days”

Of Water and Sea

by Theresa Hickey We, who dot the parched land, need oceans of resiliency to sustain prevailing winds that we might grow in courage Continue reading “Of Water and Sea”

Nan

by Elaine Reardon In Cambridge it’s snowing softly, and Nan sets the table for Sunday supper. She reaches into the fridge for butter, cold slices of ham, a jar of pigs feet. We crowd chairs around the table. I sit on Mum’s lap with a slice of bread, butter, ham. Not food I’m used to.Continue reading “Nan”

Dormant Stillness

by Yvona Fast Trees clad in rainbows, One final burst of glory. Last dip in pond refreshes on a bright October day. Brown leaves decay, die. Summer sighs a sad sound of goodbye. Days shorten, nights lengthen. We plant tulips in anticipation of new growth, fresh green, of long, warm summer days. Crocus waits beneathContinue reading “Dormant Stillness”