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

Daybreak

When I was five
I awoke at dawn to listen
to birds sing reveille
from the giant mulberry tree
dominating our back yard.

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

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