POEM: Marjory Wentworth

Holy City

Let us gather and be
silent together like stones
glittering in the sunlight

so bright it hurts our eyes
emptied of tears and searching
the sky for answers.

POEM: John Rowland


When I was five 

I awoke at dawn to listen 

to birds sing reveille 

from the giant mulberry tree 

dominating our back yard.  


When I was twenty 

I awoke at dawn to study 

mathematical mysteries from 

the previous class before 

we went even deeper.  


When I was thirty 

I awoke at dawn to shower,  

dress in appropriate costume,  

ride my charger into battle 

against demons of the factory.  


When I was sixty 

I awoke at dawn to discern 

the anchor held overnight,  

swim naked in the sea  

then watch the pelicans  

hunt their breakfast.  


Now over seventy.  

I awake at dawn to welcome 

one more day. I think about  

all those who’ve passed on  

while I ponder Billy Collins’ words.  



POEM: Walter Bargen

Manifest Breakfast

In a house buttressed by books and slanted morning light
slicing across the grain of the kitchen table, Lieutenant Colonel
George Armstrong Custer’s 1876 orders to pursue the Sioux
Cheyenne, Sans Arcs, Blackfeet, sits beside…

POEM: Wendy Lee Hermance

Bicycle Ride

In the mornings I’ve noticed
smells are sharper.

The trash is not yet set out.
Nothing is ripened by the sun.
The air is fresh, untarnished
by exhaust fumes