sun warms our backs
September, 2026
Unseen
a haibun poem by Lisa Lindsay
You came to me. I didn’t have to search. You walked into my life and straight into the pond. I feel so badly for laughing. A blind dog is no laughing matter. Or is it?
bring it on
explore the unknown
whole being vision
You let nothing stop you. Toys scattered across the room. Tail wagging. Your eyes now surgically removed. You hear my every step. Galloping toward me. We train together. I am your seeing eye person.
sun warms our backs
step off the curb
bottomless moment
Your confidence increases ten-fold. You love to run free in the grasses now listening to my voice. Sunlight absent to your day. The sound of love is not. We walk together down the gravel path barking with joy. Thank you, teacher.
deep bow
seeds planted in the heart
a forever home
The Chinese translation:
看不見
你走到我跟前，我無需尋找。你走進我的生活，徑直走進池塘。我忍俊不禁，可我不該笑。畢竟對於盲的狗，這可不是鬧著玩的。又或者……其實也無妨？
放馬來吧
探索未知
全生命視覺
你是任誰也攔阻不了。玩具散落一地，尾巴擺動。儘管雙眼已經被手術摘除，你卻能聽見我的每個腳步聲，向我飛奔而來。我們一同鍛練──我就是你的引路人。
陽光暖和我們的背
走下路緣石吧
無窮盡的一刻
你的自信增強十倍。你喜歡在草叢自由奔跑，聽我的聲音。儘管陽光缺席你的日子，愛的聲音卻從來都在。我們一同沿著碎石小徑走，喜樂地吠著。謝謝你，老師。
深深鞠躬
心中播下種子
永恆的家
Lisa lives in Ontario, Canada and enjoys working outside landscaping during the day and playing with poetry, painting, hiking in nature, and qi gong. She loves reflective time and writing about mindfulness and inner experiences. A rich inner life guides her outer one. She has been published in Our Sentient Friends, One Thousand Trees, Equine Leadership Volume 11 and Silver Birch Press.
Cats in My Past Julia C. Spring
Coal-blackest Bête Noir
explores porch; snowy siblings
cluster by food bowl.
Onyx yearns on tub edge;
half-Abyssinian, he
strokes water with paw.
Once feral, Twiggy
relaxes on my chest, glaring
and ready to flee.
Huge Jack, tiny mew,
dainty jump: all four big paws
lurch up just an inch.
Tended gently since
birth, Jill trusts only Jack
to knead her sleek fur.
Topaz skims over
my newborn to her endowed
berth around my neck.
The Chinese translation:
我生命中的貓
烏黑的「黑獸」
探索門廊；雪白的兄弟姐妹們
聚攏在食盤旁。
「縞瑪瑙」在浴缸邊引頸以待，
有一半阿比西尼亞血統的他
用爪子撥弄著水。
曾經的浪浪「小樹枝」，
在我胸口歇息，卻怒目圓睜，
隨時準備逃跑。
大塊頭傑克，叫聲弱弱，
輕巧一躍：四隻大爪子
只向上騰挪了一寸。
自出生便備受呵護的
吉爾，只信任傑克
為她揉按她順滑的皮毛。
「黃玉」掠過
我懷裡的新生兒，落在
我頸畔留給她的泊位。
Julia C. Spring was a lawyer/social worker specializing in adult guardianship and mental health who taught many graduate students of both professions..When her academic articles began yearning toward the personal, she began to write short memoir pieces. Some 25 of them have been published, as well as her haiku, collages, and photographs. There is definitely at least one more cat in her future!
Your Whiskers Jim Burns
Even considering your age advantage,
gained by measuring your time here
on this green but roiling Earth in dog years,
my age still exceeds yours,
and though it kills my back
seated at the kitchen table
bent over and holding your little yellow bowl
in one hand, your long spaniel ears in the other,
as you indulge yourself in
about the only pleasure of the flesh
that fickle monster, Life, accedes to you now
in what might be termed your dotage—
I never thought I’d be in my dotage, either,
but dote I do—
I love the feel of your whiskers on my hand
moving oh so fast
as you chew for all you‘re worth
as if it were your last,
a small pleasure you bestow on me
as I bestow one on you,
part of what others might deem
just a pact,
but a pleasure that bestows the feel
of a love that’s deep and real.
The Chinese translation:
你的鬍子
即使算上你的年齡優勢——
按狗齡折算
你在這個蒼翠卻動盪的地球上度過的年月——
我依然比你老；
儘管坐在餐桌旁，
彎下腰，一隻手捧著你那隻小黃碗，
另一隻手托著你的獵犬長耳朵，
我的腰痛得厲害，
看著你大快朵頤，
享用「生活」這個反覆無常的怪物
於你或可稱為老邁之年給予你
幾乎唯一的肉體歡愉時，
我從未想過自己會步入暮年，
但我確實老了，且寵著你——
我喜歡你的鬍鬚拂過我手的觸感，
它們隨著你全力以赴的咀嚼
動得多麼快，
彷彿這是你的最後一餐；
這是你賜給我的小確幸，
正如我給你的一樣，
在外人眼中，這或許只是
相伴的契約，
但對我而言，這是歡愉，
讓我感受到那份愛是何等深沉真實。
Jim Burns was born and raised in ruraI Indiana, and received advanced college degrees in both History (M.S., Indiana State University) and Library Science, M.L.S., Indiana University). He then spent most of his working years as a librarian in Iowa and Florida. Retirement next provided him with free time, and he returned to an early love of writing, over the last half dozen years having placed more than 40 poems and two short nonfiction pieces in online and/or print journals, blogs, magazines, and anthologies. He now lives in Jacksonville, Florida, with his wife, Betty, and Rosie, the dog referenced in “Your Whiskers.”
The Pandemic Touch Jilliana Ranicar-Breese
In my self isolation
In my loneliness
Neko my black and white love
Is my first thought of my endless day
Not yet awake at 6.00 am
I linger another half hour
I reach out to touch
His warmth and softness
I hear his purr
His contentment
Curled up
His eyes are still closed
My eyes are still closed
My anxious random negative thoughts
Whirling like a Dervish on the screen of my mind
The violent morning panic attacks have stopped
The sinking feeling of fear in my chest
After 3 months of ritual self inflicted torture
With the wrong medication
Nowhere to walk to
Nowhere to go
In my state of mind nothing to do
No routine
No walking exercises
Past history of bad walking and bad balance
Neko has an internal clock
Tic Toc
7 o’clock
Time to butt my cheek
Time to nudge my outstretched right arm
Paw to hand
Hand to paw
Time to yawn
Time to Miao
His day has begun
Mine has not
I stretch out to check the hour
Yes 7 o’clock on the dot
I take two daily morning blue pills
But
I must awaken and sluggishly move
Neko’s needs are more important than mine
Chunky beef or chicken in jelly await my master
Open back door to nature and Catlandia
The Chinese translation:
疫情下的觸碰
在自我隔離中
在孤獨寂寞裡
黑白相間的愛寵力高
是我漫長一天中最初的念想
清晨六點，睡眼惺忪
我再多賴半小時
伸手去觸碰
感受他的溫暖與柔軟
聽見他的呼嚕聲
他滿足的心
他蜷起身軀
雙眼緊閉
我也閉著雙眼
焦慮與消極的雜念
在腦海中如苦行僧般瘋狂旋轉
早晨暴烈的恐慌發作已然平息
心頭的恐懼也已下沉
因用藥不當，歷經三個月
對自己施加的例行折磨
無處漫步
無處可去
如此心境根本無事可做
沒有例行公事
沒有步行鍛煉
只有步履不穩與平衡力差的病史
力高有個精準的生理時鐘
滴答，滴答
七點正
該用臉頰蹭我了
該用頭拱我伸出的右臂了
爪與手相觸
手與爪相接
該打哈欠了
該喵喵叫了
他的一天開始了
而我還未醒來
我伸手確認時間
沒錯，七點正
我吞下每朝服用的藍藥丸
然而
我必須醒來，拖著沉重的身體起身
力高的需要比我自己的更重要
大塊牛肉或雞肉凍正等著我的主子
推開後門，迎向大自然與貓貓樂園
Jilliana Ranicar-Breese, author of vignettes (short true life stories), narrative poet. Was a radio broadcaster and would read her work on the air. Founded and hosted poetry salons. Co -presenter and host of radio programme. Interviewer. Lover of cats and dogs that inspire her writing.
Neko
The Pump Alan Zaremba
When Pump was just a tiny bud,
An itty bitty cat,
I placed him on my belly
and there the critter sat.
I was in my old recliner
And halfway tilted back
With Pumpie barely breathing.
The critter simply sat.
I wondered if we lost him.
He lay just like a lump.
I couldn’t hear his breathing.
Was it taps for little Pump?
But no, he soon crawled to my face
And licked me on the chin.
His tongue was all but saying
Let’s let the games begin.
For Pumpie was no docile
And law abiding cat.
The critter was tres frisky
Got into this and that.
The this could be most anything--
A drawer, box, or a shoe;
The that could be the chair or bed
You thought belonged to you.
We let him travel outside
And out he went and far.
He’d come back late routinely
Like he’d closed the local bar.
The Pump was our very first,
We’d had no pets before.
The guy became so very dear
We couldn’t love him more.
On top of pillows; In the sink,
Once perched upon my head.
He found a spot most anywhere
That functioned as a bed.
It was a day we’ll not forget--
When Pump did not come back.
He left us like a lover spurned
And never left a track.
I’ll not forget that early day
When he lay upon my chest--
We long for it; we really do
The Pump he was the best.
The Chinese translation:
阿泵
當阿泵還是個小花苞，
丁點大的貓咪時，
我把他放到肚子上，
小傢伙就安安穩穩地坐著。
我窩在舊躺椅裡
向後半仰，
泵泵的呼吸幾不可聞，
小傢伙只是靜靜坐著。
我會想是不是失去他了，
他臥著像個小毛團，
我聽不見他的呼吸聲，
難道小泵長眠了？
還早呢，轉眼他已爬到我臉旁，
舔我的下巴，
小舌頭彷彿在說：
“來開始玩吧。”
因為泵泵絕非順男，
也非守法貓族。
小傢伙極度活潑，
一整天東鑽西探。
「東」可以是任何地方──
抽屜、盒子，或一隻鞋；
「西」可以是椅子或床──
你以為是你專屬的。
我們讓他出去闖，
他無尾飛陀，
天天夜歸，
彷彿他負責酒吧打烊。
阿泵是我們的首隻寵物，
此前我們未養過別的，
小傢伙成了我們的心頭肉，
我們對他的愛無以復加。
枕頭上、水槽裡，
甚至連我的頭頂也盤踞過，
無論何處
都可以是他安睡的窩。
那一天我們不會忘記──
泵再沒有回來。
他像被拋棄的情人絕情離去，
沒留下半點蹤跡。
我不會忘記那天
他趴在我胸口，
我們期盼那一刻，真的──
阿泵他是最棒的。
Alan Zaremba has published several books on topics ranging from College Sports Fans to the Middle East Conflict to Crisis Communication. His latest title is Sports Ethics: Challenges for Athletes and Management. His poem, “Willy-nilly it is Willie” has been accepted for publication in Aethlon: The Journal of Sport Literature. The short story, “Irascible” appears in an anthology entitled, Heightened Anxiety and the flash fiction piece, “Geezers” was a recipient of a Brilliant Flash Fiction award. He’s also published a creative nonfiction piece entitled, "Block Ice” and another flash fiction story, “Metaphor.” Dr. Zaremba is a professor and former Associate Dean at Northeastern University.
Gingerly Carol Moeke
We found him in a sanctuary,
our little ginger cat.
Our daughter begged and begged for one.
So we caved in to that.
I tried to hide my wariness,
built on a life-long fear
of scratchy claws and piercing eyes
and getting not too near.
He was curled up, pressed against
the corner of his cage
looking wary, just like me, but
he started to engage.
He seemed to take a shine to me,
an unwanted surprise.
I cautiously reached out my hand
and feigned delighted sighs.
Well, it took a week, the settling in,
on his terms, not on ours.
He found the comfy kitchen chair
and nestled there for hours.
Except when there were visitors,
he’d scurry off and hide.
We didn’t try to coax him down
we knew his fragile pride.
The children loved to play with him
but he was not so sure.
He preferred the quiet life,
food, comfort, nothing more.
I saw him in the garden once
threatened by a bird.
The bird was chasing him away.
All a bit absurd.
He was so timid, never fierce,
cautious to extreme.
And tentatively, he and I
became a mini team
of those who face life gingerly,
approaching if we dare
all we meet along the way.
Our battle song, “Take care”.
The Chinese translation:
小心翼翼
我們在收容所找到他，
我們薑色的小貓。
女兒苦苦央求收養他，
我們心軟答應了。
我努力掩飾內心的戒備，
那源自長久以來的恐懼——
怕扎人的爪子和銳利的目光，
我與他保持距離。
他蜷縮著身子，緊貼在
籠子的一角，
神情戒備，就像我一樣，但
他開始試著與人互動。
他似乎挺喜歡我，
我有點意外卻又不知所措。
我小心翼翼地伸出手，
假裝驚嘆。
嗯，他花了一週才安頓下來，
那是按他的步調，而非我們的。
他相中了廚房那把舒適的椅子，
在那裡一窩就是好幾個小時。
唯獨家裡來了客人時，
他會急急溜走躲起來。
我們不會設法哄他下來，
因為懂得他那脆弱的自尊。
孩子們很喜歡逗他玩，
但他卻有些猶豫。
他更嚮往安靜的生活，
吃好住好，足矣。
有一次我在花園看見他，
竟被一隻小鳥威脅了。
那隻鳥正驅趕他，
場面挺滑稽。
他真的很膽小，從不兇猛，
總是謹慎過了頭。
就這樣，帶著幾分試探
我和他結成了一個小小的搭檔——
我們都是小心翼翼面對生活的人，
若有勇氣，便試著去靠近
沿途遇見的萬事萬物。
而我們的戰歌，便是「多保重」。
Carol lives in Felixstowe, Suffolk. She first dared to join a poetry class in 1980 and has been attending classes, on and off, ever since. She has had a few poems published in small anthologies and online anthologies. Her thanks go to the leaders of the groups she has been part of. It was their efforts and inspirations that provided the prompts. And so often these prompts would trigger a memory. Also, thanks to a bookbinding friend, she now has a book of her poems. Enough copies were made so that she could share her memories with her children, grandchildren and friends.
THE THIRD BIRD Miriam Aroner
Two birds perch on the telephone wire, quiet and still.
Small brown birds, sparrows perhaps? starlings?
From my porch it’s hard to tell.
Can they see me sitting here?
A third bird appears on the wire,
the same color, the same size,
unthreatening, it seems.
Chirp! Squawk! warns the two birds,
shaking their feathers, making it clear
it is not wanted, that third bird.
Is there a memory that disturbs them?
Are they a couple and want their privacy?.
Are they friends? Do birds have friends?
Why did they not welcome that third bird,
that resettles elsewhere on the wire,
far enough to calm the other two
and does not fly away, not yet.
I remember in the high school cafeteria
I approached two girls.
They were not pleased, said something to me,
which I have forgotten.
I retreated to a far corner., eating alone.
I don’t remember their names, only their rejection.
Is this the same? I wonder.
Are birds like us, jealous, sometimes nasty,
or am I projecting my hurt upon them?
Surely they are not malicious, not unkind,
just following whatever nature
they have been given, innocent.
The third bird sits alone, watching, waiting.
For what?
I am too far away
to toss a piece of bread to the third bird.
If I did, the two other birds would probably
swoop down and grab it,
then fight over it.
Maybe one would fly away, and one would stay.
What would the third bird do?
I want to understand the souls of birds
but can’t get close enough.
The Chinese translation:
第三隻鳥
兩隻鳥蹲在電話線上，安靜地呆著。
褐色的小鳥－－也許是麻雀？椋鳥？
從我的門廊望去，看不清。
牠們也能看見坐在這裡的我嗎？
第三隻鳥出現在電線上，
同色同型，
看起來人畜無害。
嘰喳喳！嘎嘎！牠俩發出警告，
抖動羽毛，態度鮮明：
那第三隻鳥，這裡不歡迎你。
是有什麼記憶讓牠們不安嗎？
牠們是一對想要獨處的伴侶嗎？
牠們是朋友嗎？鳥兒也有朋友嗎？
為什麼牠們不歡迎那第三隻鳥，
那隻在電線的另一處重新落腳的鳥，
遠遠的，足以令那兩隻鳥平靜下來，
但牠並沒有飛走——還未。
我記得自己在高中食堂裡，
走近兩個女孩。
她們感到不快，對我說了些什麼——
說什麼我已忘了。
我退到一個角落，獨食。
我不記得她們的名字，只記得被排斥。
那隻鳥也經歷這種事嗎？我不禁想。
鳥也像我們一樣會嫉妒，有時候刻薄嗎？
還是說，我只是把自己的創傷投射到牠們身上？
牠們肯定不惡毒，也並非不友善，
只是單純地遵循本性，
單純無雜念。
第三隻鳥獨自坐著，觀察著，等待著。
在等什麼？
我離得太遠了，
無法向第三隻鳥投擲麵包屑。
如果我真的這樣做，另外兩隻鳥大概會
俯衝下來把它搶走，
然後你爭我奪。
也許一隻會飛走，另一隻會留下。
那第三隻鳥又會怎樣做呢？
我想理解鳥的心，
卻總是靠不近。
A native of Chicago, Miriam Aroner has lived in the San Francisco Bay Area most of her adult life. She has worked as a librarian in private and university libraries. She has published several children's books, and poems in print and online. She enjoys reading in all genres except romance and science fiction, writing (when it goes well), and travel.
Her grown children like to travel with her because she always wants to see what’s around the corner, over the hill and beyond.
mudpuddling Amrita Skye Blaine
paws flying
she digs, digs deeper
flinging sand, sloppy mud
I long for her abandon
delighting in dirt
and disorder
she just doesn’t care
dear dog
with your wet, brown nose
waiting to mark my coat
release me from planning
from rhythm invite
me to romp in the muck
that feeds pond lily
and butterfly
The Chinese translation:
戲泥潭
爪子翻飛
她挖挖挖，越挖越深
沙礫和泥漿亂扔
我嚮往她的恣意妄為
盡情享受泥土的親密
與周遭的凌亂
她毫不在意
親愛的小狗
你濕濕的棕色鼻子
正等著在我的外套上留下印記
請用它把我從規劃中解脫
從刻板的節奏抽身──邀我
一同在滋養睡蓮
與蝴蝶的泥沼中
盡情嬉鬧
__________________________________
our pact
2009
the insistent housefly
buzzzzzzz
our deerhound
slings me a look,
slinks down the hall
to the walk-in closet
eighty-five pounds
of scaredy dog
hides under hanging
clothes and waits
panting
my job either
catch-and-release
or smash-and-cringe
as soon as the hideous
sound ceases,
she reappears
settles on the couch
crosses front paws,
her thank you
The Chinese translation:
我們的約定
2009年
那隻難纏的家蠅
嗡——嗡——
我們的獵鹿犬
瞥了我一眼，
溜過走廊
鑽進步入式衣帽間
八十五磅的大狗
卻像驚弓小鳥
躲在懸掛的
衣物下，喘著氣
等待
我要做的不是
「捉住後放生」
就是「拍死後畏縮」
一旦那討厭的
嗡嗡聲消失，
她便重新現身
在沙發上安頓下來
前爪交疊，
她的謝禮
______________________________
ring toss
1957
eleven years old
crossing from Le Havre
to New York
on the Ile de France
elegant steamship
a delicious seven days
of rock and pitch
on the sports deck
a coal-black shepherd
launches
catches the ring midair—
with a snap of his
head, flings it—
a cry of delight
as the silvery woman
snags the red ring
slings it back
they know their routine
my yearning eyes
she invites me to pet him
he offers a paw
distinguished, so grave
I am taken
The Chinese translation:
擲圈圈
1957年
十一歲那年
從勒阿弗爾出發
前往紐約
搭乘「法蘭西島號」
優雅的蒸氣船
度過了顛簸
卻美妙的七天
在運動甲板上
一隻煤炭黑的牧羊犬
猛地一躍
凌空接住圓環——
把頭一甩
將環拋了出去——
傳來一聲歡快的驚嘆
那位銀髮女士
抓住紅色的環
又將其擲回
他們倆早已熟稔這套動作
我投以期盼的目光
她邀請我撫摸狗狗
他伸出一隻爪子
神態高貴莊重
我瞬間被迷倒
Amrita Skye Blaine develops themes of impermanence, disability, awakening, dogs, and the state of our world. In 2003, she received an MFA in Creative Writing from Antioch University, and in 2024, a PocketMFA in poetry. Two poetry collections came out Spring 2025—every riven thing from Finishing Line Press, and strange grace--the ending season from Berkana Publications. She has been published in sixteen poetry anthologies in the U.S. and internationally, numerous literary magazines, and is a 2025 Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net Anthology nominee.