Halcyon days 2017 issue 7

Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 7

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Halcyon Days Issue 7 - 2017 CONTRIBUTORS Ann Christine Tabaka .......................................... 4, 5 Tapestry Thanksgiving Haiku Joan McNerney......................................................... 6 Haiku Linda Imbler ............................................................ 7 Calm Heartstrings Ken Allan Dronsfield ................................................ 8 Earth Cries, Heaven Smiles Au Revoir to Summer M. S. Rooney ............................................................. 9 The Drum of Rain Elaine Reardon ......................................................... 9 Below Zero Tonight Michele Mekel ........................................................ 10 Autumn’s Canopy Pumpkin Latte A Cycle of Shedding Carolee Bertisch ..................................................... 11 Autumn Collection E. A. Francis (Anita Leamy) .................................... 12 Majestic Sycamore Calming Cat Company Don Maker.............................................................. 13 Grace Ronnie Hess ............................................................ 14 Bicycle Path, October Charles Rossiter ..................................................... 15 Somewhere Between On a Quiet Mountainside November Lakeside Morning Kitty Jospé .............................................................. 16 Autumn River Sneha S. Kanta ....................................................... 16 When You Lit Candles Kristyl Gravina ...................................................... 17 Untitled Poem

Dolores Brandon .................................................... 18 Ode to a Scrub Shrub Christin Cassello .................................................... 19 Autumn Sharon Scholl ......................................................... 19 Autumn Hali Denton ............................................................ 20 Autumn Afternoon First of October Ellaraine Lockie ..................................................... 21 Autumn’s End Elizabeth Spencer Spragins ................................... 22 Facets Maple Fire Homecoming Judith Waller Carroll............................................. 23 Early Autumn In Praise of Obsolete Words Bobbi Sidha-Morey ................................................ 24 Sanctuary John C. Mannone ................................................... 25 a day without you A Church on a Hill KB Ballentine ......................................................... 26 Fall, Unleaving Saturday Mornings D. R. James ............................................................. 27 Gazpacho for the Soul Frank C. Modica .................................................... 28 Haiku Nancy Jentsch......................................................... 29 Tended Flames Matthew Harrison .................................................. 29 Tavistock Square Gardens Alexa Findlay ......................................................... 30 The First Dance Kathleen Phillips .................................................... 31 Autumn The Tree Outside my Window

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Tapestry

By Ann Christine Tabaka Leaves swirling Spiraling down Tumbling ever To the ground Colors dancing On the wind Patchwork carpets To begin A metaphor For life and death The beauty of which Takes my breath Spreading forth For all to see Mother Nature’s Tapestry

Š valiunic | Pixabay.com

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Thanksgiving

By Ann Christine Tabaka Cookbook open Turn the page Chop the parsley And the sage Oven warming The table set Aromas wafting Appetites whet Guests gathering

Idle chatter

Fire crackling Youngsters scatter Time together Filled with love

Thankful blessings From above

Š Nelly Kovalchuk | stock.adobe.com

sounds of autumn unmistakable crunch of dried leaves underfoot Ann Christine Tabaka

Š tpsdave | Pixabay.com

Ann Christine Tabaka was born and lives in Delaware. She is a published poet, an artist, a chemist, and a personal trainer. She loves gardening, cooking, and the ocean. Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her poems have been published in numerous national and international poetry journals, reviews, and anthologies.

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What discus player threw a tangerine moon on top of Fourteenth Street?

Joan McNerney

© pradeepbusht - Pixabay.com

A cup of coffee Warm fat pancakes bubbling up My haiku breakfast.

Joan McNerney

Winds sway maple trees…

Leaves drop like butterflies Falling to the warm earth.

Joan McNerney

© Mykola Velychko - stock.adobe.com

© George Dolgikh - stock.adobe.com

George Dolgikh - stock.adobe.com Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary zines such as Moonlight Dreamers of©Yellow Haze, Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Halcyon Days and included in Bright Hills Press, Kind of A Hurricane Press and Poppy Road Review anthologies. She has been nominated four times for Best of the Net.

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Calm

Heartstrings

No longer windblown, my space now my own.

I once parasailed above Key West.

It was though no match for the feeling you give of calm.

This calm you present to me.

This calm, not strife, that's now in my life, this inner peace so sublime, you give this only to me.

Lend faith things will turn out well.

No energy to hate, we only create, fill my sails so I need not float on wings of others thoughts, only thoughts that are of my true design, you taught me that I have nothing to prove.

With calm, it is me you have changed, to be as the deep of the sea where no waves can strike, you guide winds around me.

What they have to say can be sung, What they have to play can be strung.

Who are these prophets, dreamers of the future?

Who are these historians who ensure past lives and actions are sutured.

By Linda Imbler

By Linda Imbler

Love, calm, peace, and joy, reflectors of each age.

Show these things through the music on the page.

Regardless of the season, guitars have no lament.

Sitting behind these hollow bodies is time well spent.

Heartstrings manipulated for glory or good.

Sit and listen if you can and sing along if you would.

© Romantic | stock. Adobe.com

© tina7si | stock. Adobe.com

Linda Imbler is the author of the published poetry collection “Big Questions, Little Sleep.” She has also been published by deadsnakes.blogspot.com, behappyzone.com, bluepepper.blogspot.com, buckoffmag.com, Fine Flu Journal, Bunbury Magazine, Blognostics, Nailpolish Stories, Broad River Review Literary Magazine, Mad Swirl, Ascent Aspirations: Friday’s Poems, Unbroken Journal, The Voices Project and GloMag. Other poems are forthcoming in Leaves of Ink and The Beautiful Place: A Journal of Mind, Art, and Poetry. Online, she can be found at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com. This writer, yoga practitioner, and classical guitar player resides in Wichita, Kansas.

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Earth Cries, Heaven Smiles

By Ken Allan Dronsfield White rose petals gently fall floating down to bare ground lilac's open inhaling the sun essence's of both waft above. ladybugs dancing leaf to leaf dragonflies sit alert on a post robins dodge leaves on lawns old cats nap in sunlit windows granddads reflect in old chairs kids laugh playing in the yard welcome the autumn solstice the earth cries; heaven smiles our summer ends, fall begins.

Au Revoir to Summer

By Ken Allan Dronsfield

Last nights dishes wait in the sink hot water and soap to arrive soon cat sits nervously pondering when his dinner will finally fill the bowl.

Summer sun's has left for Florida chain saws echo across the valley pumpkin looks pitiful on the porch wish I was more skilled at carving.

Standing in the back yard alone watching the leaves gliding down like paper airplanes here and there some helicopter spin to the ground.

A sense of sadness is now borne. colder days are well on the way.

Au revoir to Summer, Bonjour Fall. whilst I've only written a bit all day.

© naturemacro—stock.adobe.com

© Free-Photos—Pixabay.com

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a poet who was nominated for The Best of the Net and 2 Pushcart Awards for Poetry in 2016. His poems have been published world-wide in various publications throughout North and South America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. Ken loves thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cat Willa. His new book, "The Cellaring", a collection of haunting, paranormal, weird and wonderful poems, has been released and is available through Amazon.com. He is the co-editor of two poetry anthologies, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze and Dandelion in a Vase of Roses available from Amazon.com.

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The Drum of Rain

By M. S. Rooney

in the metal drainpipe – why is comfort found in such an odd and simple sound?

© Jne Valokuvaus - stock.adobe.com

M.S. Rooney lives in Sonoma, California with poet Dan Noreen. Her work appears in journals, including Bluestem, The Cortland Review, Earth's Daughters, Main Street Rag, and Route 7 Review, and anthologies, including American Society: What Poets See (FutureCycle Press), edited by David Chorlton and Robert S. King, and Ice Cream Poems (World Enough Writers), edited by Patricia Fargnoli. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

Below Zero Tonight

By Elaine Reardon

When it's below zero and heaps of colored leaves brighten the dusk quiet coldness radiates through window frames sweep the kitchen clean load the wood stove with cherry watch the bright flames dance roast chestnuts tonight hold their warmth before you eat leave cupboard doors open to heat water pipes note the shiver of moonbeams dance across a glaze of frost

© shaiith - stock.adobe.com Elaine is a poet, herbalist, educator, and member of the Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators. Her chapbook, The Heart is a Nursery For Hope, published September 2016, recently won first honors from Flutter Press as the top seller of 2016. Most recently Elaine’s poetry has been published by Three Drops from a Cauldron Journal, MA Poet of the Moment, http://www.naturewriting.com and poetrysuperhighway.com. Elaine lives tucked into the forest in Central Massachusetts and maintains a blog at elainereardon.wordpress.com.

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A Cycle of Shedding

By Michele Mekel

Winds comb dead leaves from branches of the standing talls, as autumn arrives.

Pumpkin Latte

By Michele Mekel Sweet, spice-heavy steam, rising from cup to nostrils, heightens the senses.

Autumn’s Canopy

By Michele Mekel

A kaleidoscope of ochre hues touched the sky and then fell to earth.

© magdal3na stock.adobe.com ©- Margaryta Vakhterova - stock.adobe.com

Living in the shadows of the Shawnee National Forest, Michele Mekel wears many hats of her choosing: writer, editor, educator, creatrix, cat herder, and human. She is a regular contributor to The Urban Howl, and her work has appeared in various publications.

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AUTUMN

By Carolee Bertisch A certain slant of light is changed by autumn sun shining through my bedroom window in the morning.

Summer is gone, days are crisp unclouded sky deep blue and clear.

A walk on the beach is quiet few blue umbrellas in the sand, single runner glorying in her strides as I watch the lacy waves flow in.

© JenkoAtaman—stock.adobe.com

Collection

By Carolee Bertisch Brilliant red jewels of maple leaves mass along the curbs of autumn blown from trees by swirling winds.

Each year I gather the most perfect ones of scarlet ruby cabernet vermilion in bunches, press them gently, bring them as an offering to my writing classes to trace, dream and create stories.

Students love comparing leaves brightest, most captivating, shapeliest, spark the best fantasies from an object they might have raked kicked into oblivion.

© Jo Ann Snover - stock. Adobe.com

Former English Facilitator and Writing Coordinator for the Rye Neck School District in Westchester County, New York, Carolee Ackerson Bertisch is the author of Who Waves the Baton?, a book of poetry and prose, “Musings about Nature, Marshmallows and Mountain ranges.” Bertisch has been published recently in an anthology titled Word Trips and in several online zines: The Infinite Writer, Old City Cool, Talking Writing and Deadpaper.org. Her poem, Common Ground, won First Prize in the North Florida Writers’ Festival. In September 2012, she published her second book, Walking To The Beat Life: Mystery, Melody and Music A Memoir in Poetry and Prose. On March 30, 2014, she was honored to be chosen by the St. Johns County Cultural Council to receive the ROWITA Award - Recognition Of Women In The Arts.

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Calming Cat Company

by E. A. Francis

We have a companionship

that goes beyond words a silent togetherness that bespeaks a peace, a harmony of beings

different from each other; and yet, a unity of beings —oneness in creation.

As I sip my morning tea and pray, my cat curls up on my lap and sleeps All is calm...all is right.

© Anita Leamy

Majestic Sycamore

by E. A. Francis Majestic Sycamore standing tall with might, looks like snow covers your branches —wintery white!

Lone Sycamore wintering without leaves surrounded by tall supportive friends —other great trees!

© Vitalii Raichenko - stock.adobe.com

Anita Leamy (pen name E. A. Francis) is an emerging poet who writes from the inspiration of the natural world and from her Christian faith lived. When she is not teaching preschoolers, she loves to read, sit with her cats, and watch the wild creatures from her sanctuary home. She has self-published two poetry collections: the first has mostly nature poems; the second is inspired by her Christian spirituality. She welcomes reader responses by email or snail mail: anita.leamy@yahoo.com or 1006 Sitka Spruce Lane, Sykesville, MD 21784.

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Grace

By Don Maker Grace ephemeral; see the cherry blossom tree: beautiful, then bare.

Š sarunyu - stock.adobe.com

Don Maker is a teacher and a published freelance writer of non-fiction, fiction and poetry. Having had the good fortune to wander extensively across the globe, Don was a featured travel writer for Yahoo Voices until that program was ended. Accessing his observations during his teaching years, Don wrote a novel based around education, The Grindstone, and a surrealistic play exploring the life of Sigmund Freud, Sigi and Carl. Also due to those experiences, he wrote a young adult fantasy/science novel, Miranda’s Magic, which is planned as a series. Although his most recent novel is a sports comedy (The Jersey Jupiters), he has concentrated on historical fiction, such as with his first published novel, Zenobia. His current works in progress include The Shakespeares and the Crown, which explores how the change in religion impacted the ordinary citizens of Tudor England, and The Savior of Europe, the story of Charles Martel, grandfather to Charlemagne.

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Bicycle Path, October

By Ronnie Hess

Chickadees flit across the trail, settle in low branches, chatter to a basso continuo of earth movers, cement mixers, builders hammering nails.

Fall came slowly this year but picks up the tempo now: the honey locust’s gold dust in the gutter, the first of the trees to go. Gardens have been put to bed, squash blossoms spent, the vine leaves sere and withered, the cherry tomato plants brown and limp, except for one small yellow flower, the season’s late bloomer, bearing to its own rhythm, ignoring the inexorable, night’s coming, its killing frost, its cold dry kiss.

© valiunic | Pixabay.com

Ronnie Hess is a journalist, essayist and poet living in Madison, WI. She is the author of two culinary travel guides (Eat Smart in France and Eat Smart in Portugal, both from Ginkgo Press, Madison, WI) and three poetry chapbooks (Whole Cloth; Ribbon of Sand; A Woman in Vegetable). Her essays have been heard on Wisconsin Life (Wisconsin Public Radio); two of her essays have been awarded Hal Prizes (Peninsula Press, Door County) for non-fiction. The first one, The Red Shoes, was awarded first prize in short non-fiction by the Council for Wisconsin Writers in 2016. www.ronniehess.com.

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On a Quiet Mountainside

By Charles Rossiter

mid-afternoon in thick forest on a quiet mountainside, relaxed on a bed of dry leaves, back leaned against a fallen tree

Somewhere Between

completely comfortable, ready to write a poem, or fall asleep trying

By Charles Rossiter

Fall mornings when the wind is up before the sun, this washed and worn red plaid flannel shirt, caresses me like mother arms, to a inner state of heavy-lidded carefree, somewhere between sleep and wake—the land where dreams are born.

© Pascal Huot - stock.adobe.com

© Pascal Huot - stock.adobe.com

November Lakeside Morning

By Charles Rossiter

This morning it’s overcast, the sky an even gray.

My pendleton wool shirt and denim jacket make for perfect comfort along with my wool knit watch cap.

I’ve got a thermos of black coffee and thick slices of well-buttered oat bran bread in the backpack, a notebook, a couple of pencils and a book of poems

by Yang Wan-li. It’s early, I don’t know what time, and it doesn’t matter.

There’s no place I need to be.

© khomlvak - stock.adobe.com

Charles Rossiter, hosts the podcast series at www.PoetrySpokenHere.com. His recent books are: Cold Mountain 2000: Han Shan in the City, Winter Poems, Lakeside Poems and All Over America: Road Poems, all from FootHills Publishing.

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Autumn River

By Kitty Jospé

A little man in a boat on a Chinese scroll admires the gold fans of the Ginko caught in the sun and rising mist reflected on the water.

His paddle has dipped in, now feathers flat, casting small drops by the boat the size of a butterfly.

A soft breeze ruffles the leaves, shimmers the reflection on the water.

At the end of the day, he gazes at a crow in cinder-wing flight, above the river slipping with fish and moors his butterfly boat, waits for night and the fire of stars.

Before falling into dream, he thanks the moon, now shining the gold caught in the lapping waves.

All drifts into peace. © yurisvan—stock.adobe.com

Kathryn (Kitty) Jospé loves to work with sounds and meanings to create moods and feelings. Former French teacher, she received her MFA in creative writing poetry, from Pacific University, Oregon in 2009. She leads a weekly poetry appreciation class, is a docent at the art museum and enjoys preparing lectures that combine art music and word. Author of four books the poems selected

by Halcyon will appear in her upcoming new and revised volume, Inklings.

When You Lit Candles

By Sneha S. Kanta

It was autumn, autumn brought musk-scented leaves that scattered on the ground. Before the phrase of summer was fully completed, silence in itself made so many sounds: It was the breath you took when we first met, I slowly unfurled of your eyes its secrets.

The fireplace melted embers of wood as remnant wax stain prototypes, the conversation lasted till sublime hours of the night. We slumbered, though long into sleep; speech become a metamorphosis of two close souls, contained together in the folds of night, to become one. 't is winter, winter has reached its end, the street corners have snow over its bends. You are closer — still like a perpetual story, the make of to-morrow, like the ruins of history written in an old book. No one will hear the sounds of you, for sweetness hath the gift of eternity. © Smileus - stock.adobe.com

Sneha Subramanian Kanta is a great scholarship awardee and reads for a second postgraduate degree in literature in England. Her poem 'At Dusk With the Gods' won the Alfaaz (Kalaage) prize. She is co-founder of Parentheses Journal, a collaborative venture that straddles hybrid genres across coasts and climes. She is also the poetry editor for Counterclock.

Her work is forthcoming in infinite space, Calamus Journal, Door Is A Jar and elsewhere.

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Untitled Poem

By Kristyl Gravina The sound of a wind chime in the early morning the gentle breeze as it caresses your skin the smell of earth after a night of raining A birdsong in the sunshine; makes me feel alive again and want to breathe; live, and be free

Š Sue Colvil - stock.adobe.com

Kristyl Gravina is from the island of Malta. She writes both fiction and poetry and her work has appeared in various publications including Haiku Journal, WestWard Quarterly, Three Line Poetry, Fantasia Divinity Magazine and Third Wednesday among others.

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Ode to a Scrub Shrub

by Dolores Brandon

I saw you waving within the scrub shrubbery at the edge of the pathway just beyond a swath of phragmites at Gerritsen Beach. You held your own alongside whispering patches of goldenrod and scarlet Staghorn sumac.

I plucked one of your lankier limbs and carried that piece of you home.

I lay you like a victory garland over the neck of a flying goose candleholder standing on my table heading west.

Across several days I took delight in your presence subtly altered as the sunlight shifted, admired the teardrop samaras densely laced along your twiggy fingers—each one a parchment locket housing a single black seed.

I sought your likeness in wildflower and botanical texts thinking one so sweetly bountiful ought to be addressed by a proper name.

You were not to be found.

Days pass.

My search goes nowhere.

Throughout the city, street trees raucously thrive in October’s chill: the goldenrain—fulsome with leaves of textured bronze copper, the Chinese scholar—holding summer’s green, her pendant pods plump.

Much I can and do call by name.

Not yet you.

Your leaves wither and fold.

My quest not abandoned, my pleasure not abated I rejoice knowing your future is safely contained in those teardrops waiting to lift off on the wind.

Numerous are the nameless multiplying within infinity.

Anonymity is known to carry its own fine bloom.

© danmir12 - stock.adobe.com

Dolores Brandon is a writer accomplished in diverse media. Her memoir THE ROOT IS BITTER, THE ROOT IS SWEET In the Shadow of Madness was re-published in a 2nd Edition) by The Object Relations Institute Academic Press, New York (2016). Visit her online: http://www.doloresbrandon.com Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 7 |

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Autumn

By Christine Cassello Red, orange and gold; a sight to behold.

Shades of yellow, deep and mellow.

Colorful leaves waving in the breeze.

Feel the cool air blowing through your hair.

Hear stepped on leaves crunch.

Last picnic lunch. © 12019 - Pixabay.com

Christine Cassello is a native of Chicago, IL who has written since she was in grade school. She has had three short stories and three E-books published. She also authors two blogs. You can find more details on her author page on Amazon, or visit her Facebook page.

Autumn

By Sharon Scholl The year trips out on pumpkin feet, twine of grape vines at her waist, squash blossoms in her hair.

A golden orb of hickory leaves, a basket full of county fairs follow in her wake.

She’s dressed in Indian summer days carrying a harvest moon that shines on sheaves of yellow corn.

Down every lane and country road earth lies asleep, fields stand forlorn, all their bounty reaped.

© valiunic | Pixabay.com

Sharon Scholl is a retired college professor of humanities and several world cultures.Her chapbook, Summer's Child, is from Finishing Line Press (2016). She convenes a long-running poetry critique group and serves on several fine arts boards. Sharon has received fellowships or project grants from the Community Foundation and Witter Bynner Foundation for Poetry.

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Autumn Afternoon

By Hali Denton She naps with her grey-muzzled dog, two old ladies dreaming, softly snoring, toes twitching, racing across leaf-strewn velvet lawns of memory, to roam at last along the river in the golden light of the willows’ shifting shade.

© mikeng | stock. Adobe.com

First of October

By Hali Denton

The grey stairs wind upward through the green-gold dapple, beneath drooping hemlock boughs, past fragments of birdsong.

On the railing, silver spangles of morning frost.

In the stillness I hear the small tick of falling leaves; the slow clock of the seasons.

© Pixelbliss - stock.adobe.com

Hali Denton lives and writes in the lush green surrounds of the Southeast Alaska rainforest. When she isn’t writing, she devotes her time to drinking coffee and trying to stay dry.

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Autumn’s End

By Ellaraine Lockie Green alters to Grand Canyon colors in age-old October chemistry of England leaves Chameleon change of life Like the midway metamorphosis en route to old age Where verdant clarity of youth and variegated complixity of early adulthood combine in full spectrum I see me and a multitude of midlife sisters Our hormones sucked out by nature’s straw Chlorophyll leeched from out leaves Leaving ruby orange amber splendor that has been there all along Some of us still gripping boughs for security Grasping bygone shades of green that shift to bouts of blue Indigo depressions that clash with earth-tone beauty And become brittle with the fear of forthcoming winter Others of us float gracefully to the ground grandmothering into sunset colors Or cluster in commiserating piles Watching the balance of us blow carefree in newfound freedoms on fall’s final breezes Gilded in sunlit brilliance of acceptance We blaze into the inevitability of autumn’s end

© ModerateNorthwind - Pixabay.com

Ellaraine Lockie is a widely published and awarded poet, nonfiction book author and essayist. Her thirteenth chapbook, Tripping with the Top Down, was recently released from FootHills Publishing. Earlier collections have won the Encircle Publications Chapbook Contest, the Poetry Forum Press Chapbook Contest Prize, San Gabriel Valley Poetry Festival Chapbook Contest, the Aurorean Chapbook Choice Award and Best Individual Collection Award from Purple Patch magazine in England. Ellaraine teaches poetry workshops and serves as Poetry Editor for the lifestyles magazine, Lilipoh.

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Facets

By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins black velvet cradles diamonds pressed from darkness— jewel box of stars blazes in the silent cold with dreams adrift on night skies

Maple Fire

By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins slanted sunlight burns darkness from the river bank as maples kindle in the liquid looking glass that blurs reflected daydreams © julia arda - stock.adobe.com

© gorilla - stock.adobe.com

Homecoming

by Elizabeth Spencer Spragins a moose and her calf amble past the village green aflame with maples kindled by the slanted sun remembered roads lead home

© Lillian - stock.adobe.com

Elizabeth Spencer Spragins is a poet, writer, and editor who taught in North Carolina community colleges for more than a decade before returning to her home state of Virginia. Her tanka and bardic verse in the Celtic style have been published in England, Scotland, Canada, Indonesia, and the United States. Shades and Shadows, a collection of her bardic poetry, is scheduled for publication by Quarterday Press in fall 2017. Updates are available on her website: www.authorsden.com/ elizabethspragins.

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In Praise of Obsolete Words

By Judith Waller Carroll

One day it is in the seventies, the next windy and cold, more leaves turning amber and burgundy, more falling to the ground.

There is an obsolete word for how I feel about these turnings: drumble—to move in a slow and sluggish manner.

That's me. Dragging my heels while time accelerates.

But if not for my drumbling this morning, I may have missed the scores of hawks wheeling over the lake or the lone cardinal on a low branch of the elm.

The owl that landed on the bird feeder last week has come back, lighting on a pine bough long enough to get my attention, then slowly rising toward the woods.

© alan1951 - stock.adobe.com

Early Autumn

By Judith Waller Carroll The mimosa’s fern-green leaves have deepened into burnt sienna.

Even the wren’s airy song has taken on a husky hum.

Why do I let my mind trouble me with missed deadlines and maddening minutia when I know, at the end, this is what I will remember: the stillness of the pond, the heron's long legs reflected in the water, the crimson flash of a blackbird's wing through a high stand of pines, how it startles the heron into flight.

© Vincent - stock.adobe.com

Judith Waller Carroll is the author of What You Saw and Still Remember, a runner-up for the 2017 Main Street Rag Poetry Award, The Consolation of Roses, winner of the 2015 Astounding Beauty Ruffian Press Poetry Prize, and Walking in Early September (Finishing Line Press). Carroll lives in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas with her husband, the novelist Jerry Jay Carroll, where they share a backyard with squirrels, chipmunks and the occasional fox, bobcat and coyote.

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Sanctuary

By Bobbi Sinha-Morey Her bed a pallet among the maple and pine, she opens her mind to the morning light, her senses woken by the autumnal wind; pages of her notebook wavering beside her, thoughts beginning to come to fruition. A lamp within her softly shines. Leaves in their golden aura glide all around her, bluebells now in bloom she carries with her like a pressed flower safe in a secret pocket of her memory, the day's October sky a bell of blue clarity.

Wind is spinning silver circles in the river, and she listens to their swirl of life, home captured in her heart where it will forever last.

Š James DeMers - Pixabay.com

Bobbi Sinha-Morey is a poet living in the peaceful city of Brookings, Oregon. Her poetry can be seen in places such as Orbis, Pirene's Fountain, Plainsongs, Open Window Review, and others. Bobbi’s books of poetry are available at Amazon.com and www.writewordsinc.com. Visit her at http://bobbisinhamorey.wordpress.com.

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a day with you

By John C. Mannone in the dawn your smile soft as autumn roses your kisses sweet as honeysuckle in the noonday i bask in your gold light as warmth floods my senses—i am drenched in the twilight purple nestles like cotton-quilted skies that cover me and i rest my head on you in the nighttime your face is veiled in sheer black silk yet your eyes sparkle as stars as tears and i am still here—for You saturate me

© dfikar - stock.adobe.com

The Church on a Hill

By John C. Mannone

Inspired by a watercolor painting by Lyda

It wasn’t storming anymore and I looked to see if the sun prismed the air with rainbows.

The horizon was filled with a gentle sloping hill, pastoral, and mockingbirds sang a choral from their repertoire. Parting clouds gave way to cobalt blue air and a dark silhouetted cross.

A cross whose wood was moist with rain—a truer rainbow.

As I focused my eyes, I saw the small church pushing up those cross beams. I imagined that we-the-people were sitting under Him in a small room inside the stucco-white walls with a roof painted bright red the sanguine color of His love.

© Lenspiration - stock.adobe.com

John C. Mannone has work in Blue Fifth Review, New England Journal of Medicine, Peacock Journal, Windhover, Gyroscope Review, Baltimore Review, Pedestal, Pirene's Fountain, and others. Author of three poetry collections, he’s the winner of the 2017 Jean Ritchie Fellowship in Appalachian literature. He edits poetry for Abyss & Apex and other venues. He’s professor of physics near Knoxville, TN. http://jcmannone.wordpress.com Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 7

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Fall, Unleaving

By KB Ballentine

Twilight surrenders, and an owl invites us to savor the Dark Moon, to explore shadow and light in negative form.

Peel away sight and we listen — branches groan, dry leaves scratch the yard with the same wind that strokes our faces.

A wood fire smolders in a neighbor’s house, disguises the earth’s loamy scent.

Snowflakes scatter, our tongues turning them to dew.

We wait as clouds shudder the sky.

Midnight approaches.

Ravens conspire, beg us to follow.

And we do.

© Mandrixta | stock.adobe.com

Saturday Mornings

By KB Ballentine

I like the way your body warms the morning, sheets a nest of softness and scent.

How sunrise infuses the blinds, the curtains, wraps us in golden light.

The ticking of your watch and the heater’s grumble the only sounds beneath our sleepy murmurs.

Photos grin from the dresser, dust dancing in swelling brightness.

Your pajama pants worn and nubby under my hand, the coffee maker beeps, almond roast luring us from bed. Together we smooth the pillows, the comforter. I make scones while you build a fire, cherry wood, hickory beginning to flame, to heat the room, me — as you have.

© littleny | stock.adobe.com

KB Ballentine has a M.A. in Writing and a M.F.A. in Creative Writing, Poetry. Her fifth collection of poems, Almost Everything, Almost Nothing, is forthcoming by Middle Creek Publishing. Her fourth collection, The Perfume of Leaving, was awarded the 2016 Blue Light Press Book Award. Her work also appears in In God’s Hand (2017), River of Earth and Sky: Poems for the Twenty-first Century (2015), Southern Poetry Anthology, Volume VI: Tennessee (2013) and Southern Light: Twelve Contemporary Southern Poets (2011).

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Gazpacho for the Soul

by D.R. James

How much better it is to carry wood to the fire than to moan about your life.

—Jane Kenyon

How much better even to muster a quick sample of what is better: Finding the old apples scattered out back for the deer vanished while you slept.

Leaving the lit tree up well past New Year—a new who-cares tradition.

Not only seeing but hearing your granddaughter’s Instagram giggling.

Road-tripping to Chicago, those skyscrapers arising over the Ryan.

Doing burger Thursday at the What Not, stressed-out Will for your server.

Reading at 3 A. M. with your reassuring spouse, who can’t sleep either.

Cycling the back roads south of the new house, turning west toward the lakeshore.

Counting out haiku with your deep-brown-eyed daughter: re-frig-er-a-tor!

Switching from notebook to computer, suspecting a poem’s in sight.

Beating your fetching wife to the punch: Happy ‘Leventh Anniversary!

Having the silly luxury to reckon a best order for all that’s better. © Laurentiu Iordache - stock.adobe.com

D. R. James’s poetry collections are Since Everything Is All I’ve Got (March Street) and five chapbooks, most recently Why War and Split-Level (Finishing Line). Poems and prose have appeared in various journals and anthologies, including Ritual to Read Together: Poems in Conversation with William Stafford (Woodley) and Poetry in Michigan / Michigan in Poetry (New Issues).

James lives in Saugatuck, Michigan, and has been teaching writing, literature, and peace-making at Hope College for 32 years. ( amazon.com/author/drjamesauthorpage ) Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 7

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A cacophony of fireflies sing their songs of wild summer love.

Frank C. Modica

Š robsonphoto - stock.adobe.com

Frank C. Modica is a retired special education teacher. He likes history, Brussel Sprouts, dark beer, and asparagus. His reading and writing is animated by interests in history, geography, religion/spirituality, and sociology. He currently lives in a university community, where he enjoys the various cultural opportunities that are available to him. His work is forthcoming or has appeared in Slab, Heyday, Cacti Fur, Black Heart Magazine, The Tishman Review, Crab Fat Literary Magazine, Pegasus, and FewerThan500.

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Tended Flames

by Nancy Jentsch Cornstalks steepled in autumn husked by tended flames that duck and turn like maypole dancers out of season.

Ashes melt into mountain ranges that topple with breeze’s exhale form craters, cup raindrops whisper rivulets into being.

A duvet washed barren as fresh-rolled asphalt belies the fertile nap of its velveteen underside.

© Kenneth Keifer - stock.adobe.com

Nancy Jentsch has taught German and Spanish for over thirty years at Northern Kentucky University. She has published scholarly articles, short fiction and poetry in journals such as Journal of Kentucky Studies, Eclectica, Aurorean, and Blinders. Her chapbook, Authorized Visitors, has been published by Cherry Grove Collections, an imprint of WordTech Communications (2017). Seven of her ekphrastic poems appear in a collaborative chapbook Frame and Mount the Sky (Finishing Line).

Tavistock Square Garden

by Matthew Harrison

Why do I weep as I enter this place?

Is it the autumn sun between the trees casting light and shadow across my face, making my eyes smart in the sudden breeze?

Or is it the odour of fallen leaves that, wakening a wistful childhood dream of walking hand in hand with father, weaves past memories into a richer seam of the anxious present? Images crowd upon me, peopling wide the empty lawn: a child scampering up to parents, proud to defy with his joy the chilly morn.

Images fade; the trees sentinels spare; waiting for my son in Tavistock Square.

© Matthew Harrison

Matthew Harrison lives in Hong Kong, and whether because of that or some other reason entirely his writing has veered from literary to science fiction and he is currently writing poetry. He has published pieces in all of these genres. Matthew is married with two children but no pets as there is no space for these in Hong Kong. www.matthewharrison.hk Halcyon Days - 2017 Issue 7

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The First Dance

By Alexa Findlay

After Rainy Wedding by Leonid Afremov

upon the wet pavement a groom dances with his bride on a rainy night under the vibrant autumn leaves his love growing with every beat of his heart eager to spend the rest of his life with the lady he may now call his wife—

© Viktoria - stock.adobe.com

Alexa Findlay is an Undergraduate Creative Writing Major. She has an Associate of Arts Degree in English from El Camino College. She spends most of her time writing fiction and poetry. She aspires to receive her Master’s Degree in Creative Writing with a Specialization in Poetry. She hopes to one day become a Professor, and write books in the process.

She is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of The Mystic Blue Review. Her work has appeared in El Camino College’s Literary Arts Journal: Myriad, See Beyond Magazine, Pomona Valley Review, and Better than Starbucks Magazine.

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Autumn

By Kathleen Phillips . . . is a second spring when every leaf is a flower a quote from Albert Camus

It happens overnight. Autumn appears as it does each year. So why is there a feeling of loss? Are you a person who longs for a second chance at summer, so relishing that spring in your step, relishing memories when each day stretched long, when every plant you saw . . . blade, bloom and leaf seemed full of life? But, here Camus is painting an image of joy in time-now, a new way of seeing what it means to flower.

This poem is a “golden shovel.” By reading the last word in each line, you can read the entire quote.. Poet Terrance Hayes was the first to write in this form.

© PANORAMO - stock.adobe.com

The Tree Outside my Window

By Kathleen Phillips

Holds on to summer despite dire predictions of blustery October winds and approaching cold.

Even glowing reports of northern hillsides flaunting crimson, cannot persuade it to change for the sake of mere fashion.

My tree waits until one still morning, skies dark with clouds and rain, and from under cover of fog, appears, like a prima donna making a grand entrance, limbs adorned and wrapped in gold ---

waiting for admiration. © DmytroKos - stock.adobe.com

Kathleen (Katy) Phillips lives and writes in a senior residence in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Her apartment overlooking a busy street is a short walk from a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. . . the perfect combination for any poet! A recent widow, she is reshaping her life, finding energy and joy in the neighborhood surrounding her, the park at the end of the block, and the trees outside her window!

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May this colorful season bless and refresh you with halcyon days.

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