Morning
by Craig Kirchner
A mother-like gravity has awakened me
as if its magnitude has matched my force.
Watching earth move through space
as a speck of dust through a lapse –
contending with the human need
to crush ivory into favorite forms -
the earth and moon dance
in a choreographed symmetry of orbit,
creating a cosmic image in the brain’s cortex.
The sun rises slowly over the ocean,
painting the clouds in purple-pink radiance,
as it revolves through the Milky Way
carrying the solar system and this morning,
at a half a million miles per hour.
Meditating, lying on the beach,
hoping to catch the stars disappear,
sensing the mole crabs move in the sand,
releasing flesh to its desire
to be part of their realm,
a force strikes out at the dawning sun,
essences bloom violent crocus,
let there be awe as at a circus,
the filters relax, the senses grasp
the reality of the majesty of now.
Bio: Craig Kirchner lives in Florida because his granddaughters are there. He loves the aesthetics of writing, has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels and has had three poems nominated for a Pushcart. He has been published in Chiron, Abraxas, Green Silk, Main Street Rag, and more than 100 others. Craig houses 500 books in his office and about the same number of poems on a laptop; these words help keep him straight. He can be found at Bluesky.
Butterfly
by Steven Deutsch
This morning, I shared my garden with a butterfly
the shade of Irish butter.
I’d not seen its kind before
and couldn’t help imagining
it was a sign of good fortune.
We were both quite busy—
he fixed on the golden blooms
of my miniature sunflower,
while I struggled to remove
all trace of wild geranium.
Why is it butterflies never fail
to make us happy.
They bob in the breeze unconcernedly,
as we smile and point,
just as we did as toddlers.
Bio: Steve Deutsch is poetry editor of Centered Magazine and was the first poet in residence at the Bellefonte Art Museum. He has been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net Prizes multiple times. He has six volumes of Poetry. One, Brooklyn won the Sinclair Poetry Prize.
When Atmospheric River Blusters Ashore
by Jennifer Lagier
An emerald hummingbird zooms past my window,
descends upon skinny oak limb,
contemplates bronze pulsing horizon.
Within silent kitchen, I perform morning rituals:
brew coffee, blend smoothies, feed hungry dogs,
ponder today’s affirmation, scary weather report.
Phone alerts warn of coming lightning,
thunder, torrential rain, flash floods.
We are safe and warm within stucco walls.
Downpour transforms gutters into sluicing waterfalls,
The Lark Ascending emanates from stereo speakers,
punctuates fractured sky, roaring storm.
Bio: Dr. Jennifer Lagier lives a block from the stage where Jimi Hendrix torched his guitar. She is a retired educator who has published twenty-five books and in a variety of anthologies and literary magazines, taught with California Poets in the Schools, edits the Monterey Poetry Review. Website: jlagier.net, Facebook: www.facebook.com/JenniferLagier
