top of page

Aurora Borealis


Green flames dancing
over arctic ice
women dance in the glow
on the frozen snow
to the silent song
of an arctic night
and a distant beat of
a sealskin drum
To a distant beat
Of a sealskin drum
the silent song
of an arctic night
women dance on the frozen snow
by the green flames glow
of the northern lights.


                  Marion Smith

God Musing


Should I, in an idle moment, take a day

bathe it in the warmth of gentle sun

then, over an undulating weald,

lay a patchwork quilt of fields

and, to put the rustle in a breeze

a handful, here and there, of trees

and where within the quilt, a seam

as from a dell, or better yet, a spring

a rivulet that babbles in a stream

down a dingle-wooded fell

            then for resting and relief

over tree-lined lanes a cloak of velveteen

beneath infinities of stars, a solitary moon

and in between, a dawn to warn of morning

and in the wane of afternoon, a dusky light

before the inevitable totality of night

            but for fear of mankind’s wilful harm

            I leave it all for lovers arm in arm.


                  S. J. White



I resist the urge

to read the future 

in the stars

the only certain prediction

is [my] death


I am old[er] now

road-mapped around the edges

footprints of the crow

weather beaten, time pummeled

crinkled paper-bag brown


my lifeline

etched across my palm

coming up short

the message is clear:

I’ve overstayed my welcome


it is always the oldest

sent into the freeze of winter

to feed the wolves

the oldest taken down by the predator

in the herd’s race to escape


but if the truth be known

we old hags just can't run

fast enough

don't blame the herd

don't blame the wolf


                   Marianne Paul

bottom of page