Middle Age in September / Elizabeth Kerlikowske
“Webs flash iridescent rapture.” Elizabeth Kerlikowske writes on light, sound, and living things.
Poetry
Meadow / Mary Anna Scenga Kruch
“We walked toward the river into late September light, seeking space between the recent diagnosis and us;” Mary Anna Scenga Kruch writes on time in a perfect place.
Sepia Seepage Circa 1952 / Gerard Sarnat
“Lill taught me to fish for perch (I’d try to keep them alive in an old trunk on the shore) in the oil-slicked gas-smelling boathouse, how to row the dinghy.” Gerard Sarnat reflects on an upbringing.
Tree of Heaven / Elizabeth Joy Levinson
“The aspens turning golden. The light golden.” Elizabeth Joy Levinson writes on the invasive and the beautiful.
Past the Forty-Fifth Parallel / Monica Rico
“For two days, we are north, alone, wanting snow.” Monica Rico writes on changing winter, Lake Michigan, and birds.
State Trunkline / BEE LB
“Each mile ticks slower & the sky is layered stair by stair & if the whole world is not about to collapse, it is certainly straining under some unseen weight.” BEE LB writes from the road.
The Wanderer / Caitlin Shana Wilson
“Upheaved / Torn / Cradled within a womb of ice”: Caitlin Shana Wilson writes on and shares photography of glacial erratics.
Seiche / Monica Rico
“When the rain came, I was relieved
not to yank another sail on.” Monica Rico writes on a seiche at harbor.
Huff and Puff
“So the point is not to get caught up in perfection, the point is to produce something….” Kathryn Almy writes on leaves.
Limerence / Elizabeth Kerlikowske
“Lily pads are each attempt to bridge that gap.” Elizabeth Kerlikowske reflects on reflection.
September / BEE LB
“A strip of film clicking into place. the dial winding, lining the film for the next shot–” BEE LB writes on the change of seasons.
There Was a Bluff / Ron Riekki
“The wind would only whisper, the woods making soft sounds behind us, everything so quiet, as if the trees knew they were going to be books one day, and this was a library…” Ron Riekki writes on “holy silence.”
Into the Hemlock Forest / Keith Taylor
“We walk down the trail at the edge
of Carp Creek, almost to its mouth,
then wade across.” Keith Taylor spends time in the creek and forest in “Into the Hemlock Forest.”
Spirits in the Backyard / Keith Taylor
“After the chopping and hauling away were over, the long-lived dryads must have had no place to roost.” Keith Taylor reflects on his backyard in “Spirits in the Backyard.”
Black Crown / Monica Rico
“& of course there are flowers without scent, the ostentatious hydrangeas cover the house lest it not look like the others…” Monica Rico writes on flowers, herons, and walking women in “Black Crown.”
Beach, Lake Michigan / Annaka Saari
“Sitting in the sand I remember the blue-gray strokes of a painting my grandmother created years ago.” Annaka Saari reflects on time spent at Lake Michigan.
Sound and Water / Tyler Duffrin
“The cicadas, the birdsong, it’s like a symphony, it’s outrageous.” Tyler Duffrin reflects on our continuous search.
Canadian Fires / Keith Taylor
“The moon is red tonight and there’s a tang of pine smoke in the air.” Keith Taylor reflects on the 2023 haze.
Watching A Thunderstorm From My Back Porch, My Daughter Turns To Me And Says / Matthew Merson
“In July, thunder swings wider and lightning with no rain means it’s time to dance.” Matthew Merson writes about summer’s air and rain.
To Skip a Stone / Monica Rico
“I swear it was hours, years, we floated, and I touched you like a fish in stillness.” Monica Rico writes about Lake Michigan.