the guitar whispers on a corner stage
could it be love
probably not

from a corner stage
the guitar whispers
could it be love

from a corner stage
the guitar whispers
“could this be love?”

from a corner stage
the guitar whispers

crisp wind
memories of yesterday
cap and gown

December graduation
crisp wind moves
the tassles

December graduates
crisp wind
blowing at the tassles

cap and gown memory
tassel flowing with the crisp wind

standing on the beach
endless waves
white froth tickles my toes

at oceans edge
are endless waves
white froth tickles my toes

on the beach
waves of white froth
tickles my toes

kids going to school
running late—
the first snowflake falls

kids running late
to school
the first snowflake

kids running late to school—
the first snowflake

canoe ride
lunch on shore—
dog runs away

canoe beached
for lunch . . .
the dog runs away

canoe beached for lunch
the dog runs off

canoe on the beach
dog runs away
with lunch

comfortably resting
on the couch
a daughter’s peaceful sleep

resting
on the old couch
my daughter asleep

peacefully sleeping
a daughter smiles

snuggled
in the blanket
a daughter's peaceful slumber.

empty lot next to the church
cousins dressed
in Sunday’s best

near the church
the cousins stand dressed
in Sunday’s best

cousins dressed
in Sunday’s best
empty lot by the church

cold nights
sisters share the bed
three across

cold night
sisters share the bed
three across

cold night
sisters share the bed

pine logs
sap gathers on my arms
wood stack

wood stack
pine sap
on my arms

dog poop in the yard
neighbor in the lawn
scooping poop to ours

neighbor scooping poop
from his yard
to ours

the large dog
left his mark
on the neighbor’s lawn

cover of night
neighbor sneaking away
dog poop in my yard.

bareback
on my pony—
the quiet of nature

bareback
on my pony
[need a specific place/scene image]

bareback
on my pony
the silence of the wind

bareback on my pony
surrounded by the Texas plains
the armadillo scurries by

driving
   trees
      draped
      with
     moss
Georgia

driving through Georgia
the trees are draped
with thick green moss

Sunday drive
in Georgia
trees draped with moss

at the pizzeria
waiting on the pizza
garlic fills the air

at the pizzeria
waiting
garlic fills the air

the pizzeria
the smell of garlic fills…
the air

dirt road
sunset
cheer from the crowd

the sunset
just above the dirt road
the crowd cheers

sunset on the dirt road
cheers
from the crowd

One of my favorite memories was going to my grandparent’s house on Vanderhoof Street in Decatur every Sunday after church. My family did this for as long as I can remember and after they passed away, it seemed weird not going there anymore. During the months that ranged from the end of spring until it started to get cold in the fall, our family would always pick up something up to eat whether it was Krekels or KFC and eat it in the back yard.

My grandmother made an oversized quilt back in her younger days and we would go outside and eat on it most Sundays (weather permitting). Every time that I look at the quilt to this day, it brings back those memories and reminds me of my grandparents. Some of the sensory perceptions that I remember the most are the smell of the the leaves that were on the quilt that can sometimes linger in the fabric.

My grandmother was diagnosed with cancer back in 1996 and died in 1997. She had that quilt wrapped around her when she died and to this day the quilt is still in my possession. For many people, they have something in their lives a token of something that is very dear to them, for me, it is my grandmother’s quilt.

Barry Cripe

Sunday after church
family picnic in the yard
on an oversized quilt

grandmother's quilt
the lingering smell
of leaves

It was a beautiful spring day and I spent it helping to get my grandmother ready to be buried. People were coming from all over the country. Six kids and 27 grandchildren and then the great and great-great’s. Life and death mingle together in a cacophony of insanity. And there sits this little bitty child asking why her grandma’s look at each other like cowboys.

Several years back when my daughter was only four years she asked me “why do my Grandmas look at each other like cowboys?” After talking to her for a few minutes I found out she meant the gun fighter glare that the grandmas give each other. My mother and my husband’s mother staring, squinting, waiting to draw their metaphorical guns and shoot each other down. This cat is waiting to pounce at high noon, just like the grandmas.

My daughter asked me this question after my mother and I had taken her (my daughter) to the other grandmas to spend sometime. My own grandmother had died and my mother and I were taking clothes to the funeral home. When we dropped my little daughter of the two grandma’s just stared.

Becky Ives

my daughter's questioning eyes
taking clothes to the funeral home
for grandma

I adopted my, son, Jeremy, in Kyiv, Ukraine. It was Spring, May of 2004. I was standing in line at an orphanage, waiting my turn to visit my pre-adopted son. While waiting outside the old playground, in the distance I saw nine brightly colored baby prams. The yellow prams were lined in a row in a courtyard. There were two nurses walking around the babies gently rocking each carriage as they walked by, singing a Russian lullaby. I was mesmerized when I saw a tiny leg sticking up in the air. I could see the infant’s toes spread apart. It was a wonderful beautiful sight; however, emptiness filled my heart because I longed to hold that baby.

Peggy Brown

I wait for my baby
a row of yellow prams
in the orphanage courtyard

rocking each carriage
as they walk by
orphanage nurses

I remember myself cradling my newborn daughter after six weeks of returning home from the hospital. This was the first time I was able to cradle, protect, and love my daughter after she was born. Before then she was hooked up to machines and laid lifeless in the hospital crib. On this particular day I held my daughter in my arms while I rocked her to sleep. I could remember looking out the window watching the cars go by. It was a nice, cool, breeze day and the air was soft and calm. It seemed as if the cars that went down the street drove so quietly and I was at peace at this time in my life. This haiku reminded my of life, peace, and motherhood. After reading this I question why life and motherhood does not seem like this of a regular basis.

Tia Randle

home from the hospital
rocking the newborn to sleep
cradled in my arms

baby asleep in my arms
I look out the window watching
cars go by so quietly