by Judy Bruno

Split Rail

Great Wall
 Berlin Wall
            Wailing Wall
                        Split rail fence:
                        Wooden Wall
Between our house and—our neighbor’s.

Great Wall
 Berlin Wall
            Wailing Wall
                        Split rail fence:
                        Irresistible Wall
Between us: Our side—Your side.

Great Wall
 Berlin Wall
            Wailing Wall
                        Split rail fence:
                        Irresistible wall for a young boy
 Not content with the safety of his side.

Great Wall
 Berlin Wall
            Wailing Wall
                        Split rail fence:
                        Walking the fence wall,
                        Straddling split rails.
                        Walking thin wooden lines
                        Between our house and our strange neighbors.

Great Wall
 Berlin Wall
            Wailing Wall
                        Split rail fence:
                        Balancing on the boundary,
                        Steps blurring borders
                        From a vantage point
                        Above
                        Where split rail fences don’t exist.

                                             Gregg Gatta

 

Sleep Well, My Sweet Janet, 
Sleep Well

Amidst the sharp cold of winter’s eve
            And the spring dusk’s first star
And the summer rain drumming on the roof

To the heartbeat of autumn’s leaf flutters and
            Snowflakes gentle kisses,
Sleep well, sweet Janet, sleep well.

            All is Right!

                                    Janet Dellaria

Untitled

Childhood.
Roads leading to where?
Different paths:
Those taken; those not taken.

Trees shading, protecting
creating a way:
A way home; a way away.

Sister childhoods,
All different, all the same.
Love without complications:
bare, barrierless, raceless,
timeless, spaceless love.

For awhile anyway.

                        Joy Ibsen

Leaf

Oh maple leaf
Your five fingers fringed in red
As though you dipped into a pool,
    just testing the color.

Soon speckled dots appear.
Change is hard!
Then, taking the plunge,
   you embrace you new color!

                   by Judy Bruno

A Road In the Wilderness

I know it well
This road in the wilderness.

Once there were houses
Eight of them
All in a row.
Each house had a family
With lots of kids.

Then the wells went dry
And everyone moved on.
 

The houses slowly rotted away.

The Northwoods is implacable
Give it an inch and
It takes over.

Nothing remains of the
Little settlement
That the narrow dirt road
Once served.

        Anita Chosa

 

Which Dog?

Hauling my load uphill, laboring,
Scanning the mist ringed trees ahead,
I see what I would not:

Two dark shapes wheel, freeze,
Lope onto the road,
Signaled by the kicking rocks 
and my sudden stop.

The rangy setter outpaces his companion,
A massive black and tan rage of muscle:
The Rottweiler snarls, advancing.
The stone’s sharp edges bite into my right palm
As I consider my choices.

We survey one another;
I survey myself.
My left hand opens and extends,
Proffering food and friendship.

The stone drops, irrelevant.
I stroke soft sable fur.
As he licks my right palm,
Fear and pain evanesce.

 Nancy Gatta

White Queen's Ann Lace
Blue/purple echinacea
Brilliant yellow Goldenrod
Fuzzy brown spears of cattail
Crisp blue sky holds an eagle
  and the Sandhill Cranes bleep their hello.

                           Judy Bruno

Country Road

The body tingles with excitement
Sweet smell of redwood and pepperwood
Clean, fresh mountain air.

Twilight walks
Final rays of sunlight dance over the babbling waters
So many walks, so many memories.

                            Judy Bruno

Anita’s World

Turn down that country road
That’s Anita’s world.
The mystery of what’s beyond.
The trees call to me—a welcome
Respite from our rough and tumble world.
Enjoy the beauty—the colors and accept
The trees’ blessing and give them a Blessing in return.
Such a strong bond
Makes for a more glorious world.

John Goltermann

Sisters of the Winds

Sisters of the winds,
Riders of the winds
That blow from the four sacred ways.
         Each,
A rider In a white dress.
         Each,
On a road,
The road.

Wind ruffled hair flying
           Here and yon.
White dresses of weddings,
           Sacred marriages,
                  Partnerships along the road,
           Stopping points of experience
Only a rider can know.

Sisters on the winds,
Riders of the four directions.
Sister beings of sacred trees
That guard and fill the road
           With subtle nourishment.

Sisters of the Trees,
Tall brown haired pines
Smiling at the sun,
Eager to lift up the heart
To be filled
With the fullness of joy and pain
All who ride may taste.

Three sisters of the road,
Together forever, yet
Standing tall,
Each in her own place
On her own road.

                    Gregg Gatta

Come, Follow me, Journey upon me
           Whispered the road.
            The Road with the beautiful curve
            and neatly painted center and edge lines.

Come, follow me, journey upon me,
            Called the Road.
            The Road with the tall, tall
            Stately trees forming an honor
            guard arch overhead.

Come, follow me, journey upon me,
            Sang the Road.
            The road with the graceful guard rail
            and rhythmic posts.

Come, follow me, journey upon me,
            Insisted the Road.
            The road which knew what lay
`           Ahead beyond the curve.

Come, follow me, journey with me
            Answered I
            As I follow on that Road
            To new adventures!

                        Janet Dellaria