Such Joy

by Mary Eileen Knoff


I’m still here after ten year’s time
alongside this reed-lined pond
beyond my yard, down a stoney slope,

finding simple joy in

a row of goslings following parent geese
a great blue heron gliding behind green reeds
red-winged blackbirds standing watch in bare trees.

Some summer nights my sleep disturbed
by croaking frogs, I consider leaving,
then begin to miss their bark

as I miss the geese who gather and fly
off to warmer climes when chill winds bite
and the pond grows silent 

until one day

I spy noses peeking through the ice,
three otters come to play,
to tumble, nibble reed roots,

slip away.


* * * * *

"Such Joy" belongs to a collection Mary Eileen Knoff has been crafting over a decade while observing life on a pond beside her home in Redmond, Washington. Her personal pathway to life beside the pond crisscrossed the U.S., beginning with a childhood in southeast Michigan, winding through careers in teaching, freelance writing, editing, and the contemplative ministry of spiritual companioning. Observing the pond and writing about it has deepened Eileen’s commitment to a contemplative life. Some of Eileen’s earlier poems and reflections appear in Seasoning the Soul (2nd edition, 2018) and a Facebook blog Eileen Knoff, writer and soulfriend.
 

Sleek Shadows

by Mary Eileen Knoff


This sunny December Saturday
reedy fringe twins itself
in the still sapphire pond,

bent over like Narcissus, 
greedy to glimpse
its own reflection,

so brilliant today 
these sleek shadows seem,
I almost take the twin for real.


 * * * * *

"Sleek Shadows" belongs to a collection Mary Eileen Knoff has been crafting over a decade while observing life on a pond beside her home in Redmond, Washington. Her personal pathway to life beside the pond crisscrossed the U.S., beginning with a childhood in southeast Michigan, winding through careers in teaching, freelance writing, editing, and the contemplative ministry of spiritual companioning. Observing the pond and writing about it has deepened Eileen’s commitment to a contemplative life. Some of Eileen’s earlier poems and reflections appear in Seasoning the Soul (2nd edition, 2018) and a Facebook blog Eileen Knoff, writer and soulfriend.

 

Christmas at the Teardown

by Melanie Choukas-Bradley

 
The house dumbly waits for demolition
The tree in the yard already down and gone
 
In a night landscape of Christmas cheer
The property is the dark spot on the block
 
Anyone could see the house was too small
For the neighborhood
 
In a world where war destroys homes
This one falls to aggressive affluence
 
 
* * * * *

Melanie Choukas-Bradley is a naturalist and award-winning author of seven nature books, including City of Trees, A Year in Rock Creek Park, Finding Solace at Theodore Roosevelt Island and The Joy of Forest Bathing. She began writing poetry during the pandemic and had the good fortune to discover Beate Sigriddaughter’s Writing in a Woman’s Voice. The site has featured many of her poems, including “How to Silence a Woman,” “If I have loved you,” and “The Water Cooler,” which won Moon Prizes. Her poetry has also appeared in New Verse News.    

 

Heartbeat

by Melanie Choukas-Bradley


My heart sloshes like a clogged drain
On the echocardiogram
As I lie on my side gazing at the Black Hills
On a map placed to distract old hearts during testing

The doctor tells me
That one of my valves is like a rusty gate
And I have right bundle branch block
As twisted as it sounds

May this heart carry me along
For a few more years
Perhaps with the aid of a surgeon’s scalpel or pacemaker, or better, on its own

Last week your mom sent me a recording of your heartbeat, little one
Beating with tiny confidence into an uncertain world
Hearts coming, hearts going, the beat as everlasting as we hope it to be


* * * * *

Melanie Choukas-Bradley is a naturalist and award-winning author of seven nature books, including City of Trees, A Year in Rock Creek Park, Finding Solace at Theodore Roosevelt Island and The Joy of Forest Bathing. She began writing poetry during the pandemic and had the good fortune to discover Beate Sigriddaughter’s Writing in a Woman’s Voice. The site has featured many of her poems, including “How to Silence a Woman,” “If I have loved you,” and “The Water Cooler,” which won Moon Prizes. Her poetry has also appeared in New Verse News.    
 

Happiness

by Susan Isla Tepper


There was one happy day
in that five year stretch
No— there must’ve been others
she argues with herself
but can’t convince
herself beyond that one day,
first day on the job
last to leave, locking the heavy
metal door with a key,
such a responsibility—
she had to practically kneel
on the sidewalk,
to reach where the lock was placed,
a potted red geranium bought
during lunchtime
nestled in the crook of her other arm,
briefcase on the pavement.
A rough position
for a girl wearing a new wide skirt
brushing the dirty sidewalk
yet that one day sticks out
as triumphant.
When she thinks back on happiness.


* * * * *

"Happiness" was first published in The Galway Review (May 29, 2023).

Susan Isla Tepper is a widely published writer in all genres, and the author of twelve books and two stage plays currently in some form of production which changes periodically according to the covid stats. Later this year another Novel titled ‘Hair of a Fallen Angel’ will be published. www.susantepper.com

 

This month, an additional Moon Prize, the 125th, goes to Jess Whetsel's incisive poem "Lines in the Sand"


Lines in the Sand

by Jess Whetsel


I come home from the nude beach
and tell my husband about the man
old enough to be my father
who bet I’d make a good wife
with a body like that
who laid back in the sand
dick tucked between his thighs
and watched me put my clothes back on
piece by piece
made my stomach turn and my chest tighten
until I was safe in my car
until the click of the lock
until I finally exhaled

By the time I get home
I can tell my husband about the man
old enough to be my father
like sharing what I had for breakfast
I watch him brace for tears
that never seem to come
no matter how many men
old enough to be my father
there are

(And that’s just the ones
who are old enough to be my father)

A lifetime of being catcalled
touched without my consent
undressed by a leering gaze
becomes a grocery list of assaults
I can recite without blinking

I am worried
by how numb I have become
that I do not call myself a victim
because I know so many people 
who lost so much more 
than their comfort

How long will I draw
these lines in the sand?


* * * * *

Jess Whetsel is a poet, writer, editor, and public speaker based in Toledo, Ohio on Erie, Kickapoo, Seneca, and Odawa land. Her poetry has appeared in the literary journals Tulip Tree Review and Discretionary Love. You can learn more about Whetsel and her work on her website, www.jesswhetsel.com, or by following her Instagram, @jesswhetselwrites.

 

This month's Moon Prize, the 124th, goes to Anna Citrino's evocative poem "Speaking of Desire."


Speaking of Desire
Adah, 1911
Des Moines, Iowa

by Anna Citrino


We’ve moved to Des Moines.
Gerard is learning carpentry and making cabinets.
His father wanted his help at his shop.

Like my father, Gerard’s father is a religious
man with demanding expectations.
Unlike my father, he is kind.

As before marriage when living at Lenore
and Jed’s house, I wash clothes, cook,
keep house. There’s a lot I don’t
understand about relationships and living
with a man, but I do know I want to be more
than simply useful to Gerard, more than
a helpful assistant, chosen because I happen
to be there, the way a paintbrush
might be selected for a needed task.

I want to be valuable.
Not for what I can do,
or who I remind him of:
his sister who shares my same name,
his first wife who died in childbirth,
a woman he joins in bed,
or some role I fill,
but for myself.

Gerard works at the shop all day.
Evenings he labors at the desk
over the business’s books he keeps
for his father. We both work long hours.

Setting work aside to wander down a road
hoping to discover something unexpected—
that is what I long for. A spring afternoon
beside the river, our voices mingled with
water and a cedar waxwing’s whistle,
or us walking under a cottonwood’s flame
that burns into a cloudless sky—these
are what I wish for—life full with possibility,
open like the plains.

I want Gerard to reach for my hand,
gather me to him in a smile that says
I matter more than the role
given me, more than all the rules
about clean houses in paradise,
ledgers between us balanced.


* * * * *

"Speaking of Desire" is part of Anna Citrino's growing longer work of related poems. More poems from the longer work will be posted here on December 14 and December 15, 2023.

Anna Citrino is the author of A Space Between, and Buoyant,  Saudade, and To Find a River. Anna taught abroad in six different countries: Turkey, Kuwait, Singapore, Saudi Arabia, India, and the UK. Her work has appeared in Bellowing Ark, Canary, Evening Street Review, Indelible, Paterson Literary Review, phren-z, Poppy Road Review, and the Porter Gulch Review, among other literary journals. On most any day you can find her going for walks near the coast or biking on paths through rolling hills where she lives in Sonoma County, California. Read more of her writing at annacitrino.com.