Loneliness— Lynn Aprill
After “Donkey” by Thomas Xie
He stands, head hanging
low in his empty field, long ears
flicking flies from his eyes, silent
but for the somnolent buzz of bees,
the whine of the power line.
His grey muzzle tells us he’s spent
long years barn-pent, ignored. Today,
from the corner of his clouded eye,
he spied an opening, a door ajar,
so he went, slowly ambling
across the straw-strewn floor,
easing through the gap in the gate,
the wind freshening, sending smoothing fingers
through his dusty coat. He grazes
on fresh grass, then senses more,
nearly trots down the gravel path, finds
a field. Such a wealth of space, Yet,
he can think of nothing to do,
no notion of kicking up his heels
after a lifetime of confinement.
Slowly, he sinks to the ground, waiting.
Award-winning Wisconsin poet and educator Lynn Aprill’s work has appeared recently in Copperfield Review Quarterly, Bramble, Willows Wept Review, and others. Channeling Matriarchs, her first chapbook with Finishing Line Press, was published in August 2021. Her work can be found at https://lynnaprill.weebly.com/.
Of Ancient Greek Sleep and Minnesota Autumn— Sharon Hilberer
The valleys are asleep and the mountaintops
No mountains here, but yes,
the big river has cut a channel
and courses through it.
The sea cliffs and the mountain streams
River bluffs, that is,
and a creek trickling
between ponds
Serpents and lizards born from the black earth
Our native salamanders
disappearing
in the disappearing wetlands
The forest animals and beeswarms in their hives,
Yes, exactly that
The fish in the salt deep of the violet sea
Muskelunge of great age
cruising lake bottoms
as ice forms above
And the long-winged birds
Long-winged and heavy-bodied
crying overhead, heading
south and away
(Poem in italics from seventh–century BC Archaic Greek poet Alkman, translation by Guy Davenport)
Sharon Hilberer lives, works, and writes in Minneapolis, Minnesota, on the northern prairies of mid-continent USA. Her poems spring from the natural world, overheard and remembered conversations and the life of the neighborhood.
Crazy Legs—Afsar Mohammad
Walking along its loneliness
distant greenery
violet flowers
grey rabbits
white threadlike path,
do you think
one should end up
somewhere at some point?
all alone deep into this shady evening,
a fire-fly now shining, and then vanishing
nothing stops here no sign-posts no blinking lights
and its twilight silence never answers to any call.
look back at the sky as
its wide long blue palm opens up
dropping the last grains of secret
and then closing its dark fist.
do you think
one should end up
somewhere at some point?
Afsar Mohammad teaches at the University of Pennsylvania, USA. He writes in English and Telugu. Afsar’s recent collection of his poems into English was published by the Red River in 2022. Afsar has published five volumes of poetry in his home language of Telugu. He is also known for his research on Hindu-Muslim interactions in South India.
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