Brighton Beach

by Claire Kirch

Wet, flat rocks
Walking, sliding, slipping
The hills rising above us
London Road’s cars, sounds in our ears
The wind nipping at us
The sunlight on the water blinding us
“The Lake is my sister,” Rachel says
Her baby teeth gleaming
As we walk along Brighton Beach.

The Emission of Visible Light by Organisms

by Micky McGilligan

Seagull circles in the lowering sun.
Turning on its untraceable path,
it disappears sometimes
as its bright wings stop catching the light.

Maybe it is just such a skinny bird
that sideways,
it is too thin to notice.
Better yet,
it could be slipping
in and out of the dimension
where the fish and floating edibles
are easier to spot through the murky waves.

Winged Keel

by Bill Mittlefehldt

Posing with taut wings above dark waters,
generations paused breathing words.
Pushed deep by cool rhythms,
the wind filled our innocence,
flashing possibility to eyes filled with wonder.
Poets riding on a rush of words,
meandering a moment before splashing
blue, wet and luminous by our keel.