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Cover photo by author
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FOG RELUCTANTLY
I enter the fog
willingly
like a duck
lands on a pond
safe from shore
predators.
Deeper, deeper
I dive into vapor
and surface
on the other side
not even wet
from my journey.
I exit the fog
reluctantly
like a reflection
blurred by ripples.
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SILHOUETTE IN FOG
The barren tree
extends its branches
like lightning charging
upward instead of down.
It reaches for the sun
like a lost ship at sea
in the fog until
a lighthouse illumines
its path to shore.
An old woman’s
veined hand rests
on the blanket…
an invitation to hold.
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Cover collage by JanK
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Memory Picture
A bumblebee clings
to the kitchen’s window screen.
As big as my thumb.
The bee. Not the screen.
I snatch my camera
and step outside as quiet as
a flower opening to sunshine.
I focus in
and am buzzed
by the bumblebee
before it flies
in search of nectar.
No picture …
just memory.
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Cloud Musings
The tree grew a boat for me
to journey through clouds.
Butterflies flutter like dolphins
guiding my cruise past
wind swirls mimicking whirlpools
like carnival rides that motioned
me into sickness movement
even when I sat on the ground.
Seagulls or cloud gulls
wing overhead as angel harbingers
along for the ride listen to leaves
give a standing ovation
in confetti cascades.
And I am afloat
dipping my hand
in cloud fabrication
like eating cotton candy
in the breeze.
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Cover Photo by Author
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BETWEEN REPEATS
She is the between:
ocean and sky merge
in clouds and surf –
a reflection disturbed
in wave distortion.
Surf pounds against her feet
and splashes toward her knees
before rushing ashore
then folding backward again.
Sunshine cuts her in half –
a blue-ribbon mannequin
haloed to shadow sinking
on a sand-grained beach.
She leaves the beach
for the parking lot
where her car waits
between two parallel
white lines repeating.
UNLIGHTED WORLD
Full moon silhouettes trees
with stick-like, witch-like limbs
stretching to tap one’s shoulder
with a knotty knuckle made
for shiver generation.
Branches disappear within
house’s gabled shadow
except for one lighted
window glaring at the night
outside where a peeping-tom
crow occupies a branch,
extends its darkness
like spreading wings
as the light clicks off,
and night overthrows
the unlighted world
like the crow, talons forward,
descends.
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FLUFF SCATTERS
Dandelion fluff blown
one by one by many
until only the green stem
and head remains.
Brain cell by brain cell
memories scatter
like dandelion fluff
never finding fertile ground.
Day by day
everything blooms new
and the wind wags
stems in night shadows.
SOLE TREE
Beside the creek, bronze grasses
welcome autumn in audience
applause waving in expectation.
The sole survivor tree
no longer in leaves;
roots pulpy with ant devour;
bark sun-baked on its way
to bleached tree bones
freezes in statue pose
wondering when wind
or lightning desires its life,
and mountains inherit tallest
in the landscape.
Grasses proliferate
in hopes of comforting
the tree’s final repose
beside the creek
whispering dreams.
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Diane Webster's work has appeared in El Portal, New English Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Verdad and other literary magazines. She had micro-chaps published by Origami Poetry Press in 2022 and 2023 and was nominated for Best of the Net in 2022.