Earthsigns
Michael Dylan Welch and Scott Wiggerman, editors. Lidia Rozmus,
illustrations. Press Here, Sammamish, Washington, 2017, 84 pages, 183 poets
(one poem each), ISBN 978-1-878798-38-1.  wearing a blue I have never seen before Sangre de Cristos Alan S. Bridges Littleton, Massachusetts canyon sunset . . . so much of his story I never knew Angela Terry Lake Forest Park, Washington 雷雨きて揺れる葉むらの小鳥たち raiu kite yureru hamura no kotoritachi thunderstorm— the shapes of birds among the swaying leaves Aya Yuhki Tokyo, Japan night of stars— old wooden crosses lean into the land Betty Arnold Saratoga, California rubbing oil into the baseball glove birthday snow Bill Cooper Midlothian, Virginia pink hoodoos only my left arm sunburned Billie Dee Las Cruces, New Mexico white hiking socks a little less Red Rock country Brad Bennett Arlington, Massachusetts new table the years it took to grow the trees Carolyn Winkler Portland, Oregon sea breeze the salt taste in her kiss Ce Rosenow Eugene, Oregon waking from a dream without a center misty crescent moon Charles Trumbull Santa Fe, New Mexico en mar azul como ballenas muertas dos rocas negras on the blue sea like dead whales two black rocks Cristina Rascón Ciudad de México, México shorter days the leaves and my hair change color David Oates Athens, Georgia rocking lightly in a slight breeze cicada shell Don Wentworth Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania global warming . . . a stamp from Mars on the envelope Fay Aoyagi San Francisco, California terracotta moon the door propped open with a broom Francine Banwarth Dubuque, Iowa Moving . . . I take my seashell collection back to the beach Garry Gay Santa Rosa, California dust bathing a jackrabbit kind of day Jeff Hoagland Hopewell, New Jersey morning coffee the roses and i find some common ground Jennifer Hambrick Columbus, Ohio before my time a thunder egg split in two Jennifer Sutherland Viewbank, Australia sharing spicy tamales our conversation perks up Joan Prefontaine Cottonwood, Arizona penny for your thoughts he says . . . she says way too much Johnye Strickland Maumelle, Arkansas Down in the canyon the yellow light of a hogan— threat of male rain Josette Pellet Lausanne, Switzerland  Julie Warther Dover, Ohio firefly! hitching a ride on its own light Kala Ramesh Pune, India snow on the blue hills day moon kjmunro Whitehorse, Yukon Territory too late braking the hitchhiker’s middle finger Lew Watts Santa Fe, New Mexico Ghost Ranch no need for a dreamcatcher Lidia Rozmus Vernon Hills, Illinois  flyover country— the speck of a tractor plowing dusk Linda Papanicolaou Palo Alto, California vintage ring its life before us Linda Weir Bowie, Maryland trickster wind a beach ball travels down the coast Lynne Jambor Vancouver, British Columbia alive as it’s ever been earthworm in the robin’s bill Marian Olson Santa Fe, New Mexico worn smooth by wind layers of light seep into a cavern Marietta McGregor Canberra, Australia waxed apples am told I have my mother’s smile Maxianne Berger Montréal, Québec woods walk— I catch the cobwebs that miss my son Michael Dylan Welch Sammamish, Washington holding the sunset the red clay of the infield Michael Ketchek Rochester, New York deleting her last text scent of snow paul m. Bristol, Rhode Island firehouse fish fry— from the makeshift stage the banjo’s heat Penny Harter Mays Landing, New Jersey the park road would take longer . . . month of leaves Robert Gilliland Austin, Texas my inner Chiyo-ni walking the red path to Chimayó Robin White Deerfield, New Hampshire mammatus clouds the cries of hawks build above me Sandi Pray St. Johns, Florida mountain’s outline the difference walking alone Scott Wiggerman Albuquerque, New Mexico tule elk . . . recalculating the way home Sharon Pretti San Francisco, California hummingbird— talk of building a wall Tanya McDonald Woodinville, Washington 東北に春あちこちとふきのとう tōhoku ni haru achikochi to fukinotō Tōhoku’s spring— here and there the butterbur buds Teruko Kumei Tokyo, Japan alluvium I pocket a stone meant for the sea Tom Painting Atlanta, Georgia Similkameen the river rolls off my tongue Vicki McCullough Vancouver, British Columbia |