May 2009
Inductions
by Barb Lundy
She might have said roses
in her 20s. Vases filled with perfect
red petals, predictable scents.
Sunflowers for the baby years
Larger than life, overarching
the garden, living into October.
Lilies tempt as teens turn twenty
More durable than her marriage
Day lilies show up in unexpected places
In the sixth decade- wildflowers
Never to be picked, peeking between
rocks, thriving in deserts. Untamed.
Desert Yield
by Barb Lundy
Meadow fire trims the side wall.
The red petals of indian blanket
contrast her blue front door.
Sun infuses larkspur with
flared crystals of dew.
Every perspective revealed
through one prism.
Her dry garden demands
the gamble of color
the peril of wind
the hazard of quick passing storms.
Here, the certainty of not knowing
tempts a chaos she never dared before.
Bio: Barb Lundy is a hypnotherapist. She taught writing for many years at Denver area colleges. She’s been widely published, including work in JAMA, The Potomac Review and The MacGuffin. Barb was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2005.
The Newly Minted Dusk
by Bobbi Sinha-Morey
Shining in the newly
minted dusk I see you
by the great river wrapped
in ribbons of light your
petalled words reaching
me as the flicker of fire-
flies we see between us
scatter over the water
giving way to the early
evening our words so
few we no longer speak,
only listen to the unbro-
ken stillness before it's
swept away by the wind.
I then lift a page in my
life when the day ends
and the memory of you
stays with me like a
purple delphinium.
Stars began to flower
ripe as the season
when the skies said
your name and although
you nearly made it to
heaven I still have you
inside my heart pressed
close.
The Breast of Spring
by Bobbi Sinha-Morey
In the mandorla that
circles the sun I see
an idle robin and listen
to its unfettered song,
the echo of its voice
seeming to beckon
the motion of dawn
that comes slow and
sweet. Behind the elms
is the sky's misty blue,
lilacs secreted from
its glow yet lifted in
generous bloom. Over
the breast of spring I
follow the path littered
with heart-shaped leaves
of rich green to the old
redwoods nearby the
stream. Among the dark
ferns where I once used
to daydream shaded
where I could watch
the joyous sun, I'd
remember its shy eclipse
before it lay hidden
over the mountains.
Bio:
Bobbi Sinha-Morey is a reviewer for the online magazine Specusphere and is a poet. Her poetry has appeared in places such as The Houston Literary Review, Falling Star Magazine, Poet's Epresso, Poetry Cemetery, and Wizards Of The Wind, among others. Plus, her latest books of poetry, The Quiet Scent Of Jasmine and Stillness In The Garden Of Light, are available at ebooksonthe.net.
