Rain Dancer
by Jeffrey Cyphers Wright
It’s raining. Crooked trees
wear the greenest moss.
Every day a lesson sticks,
adding to the stack of needles.
So much currying,
so little favor.
So much scurrying,
just to hold steady.
By the time I get to Phoenix,
I’ll be Icarus.
Lord of the wings,
in charge of falling.
Rain. Moss, so green.
Today I am all I have given.
A Small Blessing
by David Filer
Yes, that delicate
noise outside is rain.
Just occasional
showers, the forecasts
said, and now one’s here.
So lawn mowing must
wait a drier day
and will be more work,
the grass another
inch or two taller.
Still, our damp weather
is a small blessing,
keeping the landscape
vibrant, while elsewhere,
drought and flooding reign,
not to mention huge
tornados filling
the news with havoc
on everything in
their turbulent paths.
Yes, that delicate
noise outside is rain.
And we should give thanks
it’s the weather here,
the weather grass loves.
Just
by Ronald J. Pelias
He just wanted to be held,
close, flesh to flesh,
pressing into warm,
to be still, named.
He just wanted an opening —
a head to a heart,
a hand to a cheek,
a place of telling, of rest.
He just wanted her to want him
to take him in
until the beginning and end
forget time.
He just wanted her to fill
the emptiness
lives, such as they are,
make.
What Was Found There
by Ronald J. Pelias
was hungry, ready,
a taking in,
mouth, fingers, skin,
pressing,
was ripe, plucked
from a moment
of promise, pushing on
without stop
was tender, soft,
a drop, perhaps
a tear, dropping
onto an onion’s heart