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.

Featured, Gina Di Cicco Marino, Photography

Spring Blooms

Photography by Gina Di Cicco Marino

Spring in New England is a time of long-awaited, colorful blooms in gardens at our homes and at the many botanical gardens that grace this region. Gina Di Cicco Marino‘s beautiful photographs showcase the blossoms and garden architecture that greet her each spring in Massachusetts.

GinaDCMarinoGazebo600w
Treetop blossoms at the gazebo
Photograph by Gina Di Cicco Marino

 

Tulips at the Arbor
Photograph by Gina Di Cicco Marino

 

Fountain of Tulips
Photograph by Gina Di Cicco Marino

 

A Seat Among the Tulips
Photograph by Gina Di Cicco Marino
Featured, Poetry, Theresa Hickey

Gray Day

by Theresa Hickey

Raindrops chime against
a metal watering can left outdoors
among seedlings, yet to be planted;
unopened bags of loam
lie neglected,
stacked obelisks awaiting sun.

As rain ripples, begins to pool,
it gathers in gutters
along the potting shed
before cascading
in sheets along matted ground.

I sip morning coffee, lukewarm,
cool feet against smooth surfaces of tile,
eyes, not quite alert from rivers of sleep,
ideas, slow-rising from dormancy.
What lies ahead from this infant-of-a-day?

A clock ticks, insists on flicking
immediacy upon the present.
Should I go off to perform rituals,
begin gardening when the sky
clears, check items from a list?

I want only to remain here,
to look out my window—
embrace this small contentment
dwelling in the quiet
before contending
with a less-than-perfect world.

 

Featured, Poetry, Sherry Jennings

The Gift

by Sherry Jennings

 

The peach fell from the tree.
I plucked it from the tillering grasses.
Ripe, warm, juicy,
the sweet, sticky nectar slid across my lips,
circling the contours of my cheeks.
The sun juice dripped from my chin;
droplets rolling to my elbows
as I held the succulent fruit to my mouth.
The naughty temptress,
offering her breast-soft flesh,
had just given me the gift
of tasting summer.