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Halcyon Days - 2022 Issue 26 | 1

Halcyon Days 2022—Issue 26

Founder, Monique Berry | Hamilton On Canada

B. A. Brittingham

Roadsides 18

Stillness 18

Bruce Levine

Oolong Tea 10

Seasonal Change 11

Carolyn Chilton Casas

Sometimes 9

Dr. William Waters

No Wind Now 6

Gaiyle J. Connolly

Nature Provides 21

Jane Briganti

Luminous 5

Butterflies 5

The Sweetest Sleep 14

Riverwalk 20

Joan Mazza

In the Land Where Chlorophyll is Queen 4

Linda Hughes

The Evening Bath 15

Monique Berry

Swing Drifting 3

Nolen Price

My Sunshine 8

Picnics 8

Nolo Segundo

My Own Small Slice of Paradise 7

Ocean City 12

Sammy Anderson

Perfect Day to Run Away 16

Stella Mazur Preda

It’s Magic 21

Janice Canerdy

Porch 17

Summer Rain 17

Light 19

Respite 19

Cover Image: gene1970—Pixabay.com

Halcyon Days Magazine

ISSN: 2291-0255

Frequency: Quarterly

Publisher | Designer: Monique Berry

Contact Info

http://halcyondaysmagazine.blogspot.ca

Twitter: @1websurfer

monique.editor@gmail.com

Special Notices

Halcyon Days has one time rights.

See website for subscription details.

No photocopies allowed.


Swing Drifting

Monique Berry

Halcyon thoughts

drift on sunset waves,

bobbing

up and down,

traveling the C’s of the mind—

calm currents

content cuisines,

senses

comforted by tranquil breezes.


In the Land Where Chlorophyll is Queen

Joan Mazza

Spring begins with pale green, yellow green,

deepening to emerald as the forest fills in

with the canopy of trees and the understory

of ferns and wild azalea. Saplings grow

from last year’s acorns. Pollen paints everything

yellow, fools the viewer into believing the pond’s

black water is solid, and then is blown to the east

to sink. All summer, green in every shade, hue,

and value— chloroplast factories making sugar.

Daffodils and forsythia bloom yellow, followed

by tulips in pink and deep red with slashes

of black, before bearded iris in deep blue

and purple, as if the flowers know the rainbow

of the human visible spectrum. You can set

your clock and your calendar to the arrival

of wood ducks and snapping turtles, the bloom

of filamentous algae. We are lucky with rain.

Farmers’ fields stay green, corn rises near fields

of deep green soybean. A flourish of family gardens—

lettuces and peas before cucumbers, squash,

tomatoes, and eggplant. Basil, parsley, sage, scallions,

harvested fresh with bok choy, samposei, celery,

onions, and carrots for soup and stir-fries.

Set back from the road, no one sees me or my house

down the long driveway, downhill to the pond

and creek. Quiet and solitary, poet and writer,

call me aloof, a snob, a mystery to my neighbors.

Oh, to live rural, surrounded by trees, awash

in chlorophyll and its cousin anthocyanins.

Oh, to be grateful for abundance and fertility,

always surprised by clouds, bright sunlight,

and too many zucchini— wealth

I never had in a city, always longed for.

Larisa Koshkina—Pixabay.com


Luminous

Jane Briganti

Shinning down from Heaven above

A luminous light of endless love

Feel the energy from its rays

Shine upon you for brighter days

Bask in the glory of its glow

Set yourself free and just let go

Natalia Tonevytska—Pixabay.com

Butterflies

Jane Briganti

A pasture of green grass

blowing in the wind

meets a blue pastel sky

as far as the eye can see

In the faraway distance

standing alone

a maple tree blossoms

Leaves like cherry red

create an umbrella

of magnificence

a playground of branches

where vibrant butterflies

flutter together

Swooping and swirling

dancing in circles

drawing rainbows of color

in the sky

Luminous butterflies

in a whirlwind flight

celebrating summer

cocoparisienne—Pixabay.com


No Wind Now

Dr. William Waters

No wind now;

Just drips

From a leaf

Hitting

A puddle.

Memories move

Memories.

Sleep

returns

elen studio—stock.adobe.com


My Own Small Slice of Paradise

Nolo Segundo

I look out my backyard and

rejoice in its greenness

(even though green is not

my favorite color) and I

think I am so fortunate

to have a tame jungle

for a backyard with its

own little zoo of squirrels

dancing like dervishes and

birds fluttering like mad

and fat crafty groundhogs

continually trying to dig

under my shed for their

own comfy rent-free home

and the occasional skunk

(so beautiful at a distance)

or even a proud wild turkey

but best of all is when a

deer or two or three come

like virgin queens to quietly

meander o’er my ¼ acre

domain-- it may not be like

sitting on a beach in Hawaii

overlooking the Pacific as

the sun gracefully dies yet

again but it is my own, my

very own small slice of

Paradise….

Ivan Kuzmin—stock.adobe.com


Picnics

Nolen Price

Baseball bats and sandwiches.

You asked to have brunch

underneath the orange trees.

Drinking sangria and talking about

your parents’ expectations and swinging at

tangerines after we’re done eating. Pulp

rains from the sky, you pitch me more

fruit. We strikeout then you kiss the juice

off my face while I add to your neatly

piled peels, stacked perfectly

on the blanket.

Dasha Petrenko—stock.adobe.com

My Sunshine

Nolen Price

Li Ding—stock.adobe.com

I’ve seen sunflowers turn their heads to look

at you smile

and I’ve seen roses stretch themselves just tall

enough to touch your nose

when you bend to smell them.

I’ve heard black-eyed-Susan's

whisper sweet things as you walk by

and I’ve heard the orchids braided in your

hair say

they no longer need water,

they just need you.

You hold my hand and I realize

I just need you.


Sometimes

Carolyn Chilton Casas

Life gives me a morning

after having slumbered

like an angel

in a cocoon of cotton blankets

and flannel sheets,

seated cross-legged, lotus pose

on the bedroom floor,

with a

hot cup of coffee,

whipped cashew mill

and cinnamon stirred in,

looking out the open door

to wide-spread hawk wings

circling the heavens,

riding their enraptured

roller coaster in the sky.

Glancing down, I see

a glittering snail track, dotted

like the path of a treasure map,

woven between

fallen leaves on the patio.

And I feel happy

for the coming day,

Life is like that. Sometimes

it gives you exactly what

you want and need.

Viacheslav Yakobchuk—stock.adobe.com

Alina—stock.adobe.com


Oolong Tea

Bruce Levine

The residual taste of two cups of oolong tea

The warmth remaining on the cheeks and tongue

The comfort and relaxation of oolong tea and a good book

The lamp set at the right angle and the brightness at the perfect

intensity for a good read

A murder mystery

A dead body (only on paper) with no blood and no gore

preceding its revelation

The careful detection – work of the minds of the amateur and professional

An evening to ponder with a cup of oolong tea

Pixel-Shot—stock.adobe.com


Seasonal Change

Bruce Levine

Focused on the season as it changes

Cool mornings refreshing the days

Drifting onwards with gentle sensations

Like clocks ticking softly and musical chimes

Waking to sunlight like a hand gently touching

No strident sensations of screeching alarms

No beeping or tweeting other than bird songs

A glorious sunrise to open the eyes

As cumulous clouds in a tranquil blue sky

Making formations in a cartoonish display

Like The Umbrellas of Cherbourg their manifestations

Presenting the dichotomy of seasonal change

Days made for walking without destination

With a dog and a loved one for perfect companions

To lighten the heart with each happy step on the way

And sidewalks seem like pathways to The Wizard of Oz

Focused on the season as it changes

Lingering days on a calendar page

Adding dimensions in easy progression

The rhythm moves onward in the seasonal change

Анатолий Стафичук—Pixabay.com


Ocean City

Nolo Segundo

I saw it then as my own little Shangri-la,

for I was very small and knew nothing

of the big world, the grown-ups’ world.

And for the child-me it was nirvana,

that little town on a barrier island

between the gray, cold, untamed and

endless Atlantic Ocean and the quiet,

near somnolent bay where the boats

of the less brave could sail safely….

I could ride my bike from Nana and

Pop-pop’s little house on that bay,

feeling as free as the myriad seagulls

swirling forever above my head--

I’d ride ‘cross town to the boardwalk

and if I had a dollar, see a movie by

myself, feeling like a proud little lord--

I remember as though yesterday, and

not 60 some years, my favorite theater,

with its long darkish hall that looked

like the entrance to a pirate’s den,

lined with displays of model sailing

ships, mostly men-o-war chasing, yes,

pirates, but never catching them….

But most afternoons I was happy to

just sit quietly on the porch of my

grandparents’ house, smelling the

dinner Nana was making while I

read of countless dreams in books,

books that captured like a pirate

his prey, and took me round the

world in the finest and fastest

sailing ship of all—imagination!

posh—stock.adobe.com



The Sweetest Sleep

Jane Briganti

She sleeps the sweetest sleep

Her head lies gently upon her pillow

Clutched in her arms is his pillow

nestled under her cheek and chin

Kneeling alongside the bed

he watches and wonders

"Is she dreaming of me?"

Quietly he watches over her

like a Guardian Angel

Slowly he moves in closer

placing his face in front of hers

upon the pillow she holds so tightly

His lips just millimeters from hers

His breath warms her face

He moves yet even closer

Kissing her ever so gently

his lips on hers so soft

He pauses and she wakes

to keep their kiss alive

Time stands still for both

Face to face

Gazing into one another's eyes

His palm touches gently upon her cheek

He whispers "sleep my darling the sweetest sleep"

Dream of me for I am here and

I love you

Ekaterina Senyutina—stock.adobe.com


The Evening Bath

Linda Hughes

She bathes in evening’s

mahogany light

on a chair

where the sunshine was.

Licks her white paws

draws them

over ears, head, eyes.

Her white gloved hands

little ghosts dancing.

The same ghosts

that will tap my face

in the morning.

Stealing dreams.

Светлана Бердник—Pixabay.com


Perfect Day to Run Away

Sammy Anderson

Sun low.

Sun shining.

Wind blows

with perfect timing.

Soft heat.

Rustled leaves.

Nature’s beat.

Made to please.

Talk about mountains

beyond horizons.

River fountain

glows like diamonds.

And trapped alone

just looking on

wondering

where is my home?

So much beauty

on such a day

it feels my duty

to run away

zarir madonéEyeEm—stock.adobe.com


Porch

Janice Canerdy

Pen and paper meet

On mild days when skies are blue.

Roomy poet’s seat,

Cozy nook lends summer view.

Halcyon are times so sweet.

Summer Rain

Janice Canerdy

For days the unrelenting heat oppressed.

The crops were suffering. We prayed for rain.

None was predicted, but we’d soon be blessed.

A downpour proved our hopes were not in vain.

Our neighbors must have thought we were insane

when they observed us singing with delight

and dancing in the mud. Thank God, our plight

had ended, and we knew our crops would grow.

Just as our jubilation reached a height,

the sky revealed a glorious rainbow.

dbrus—stock.adobe.com


Roadsides

B. A. Brittingham

Michigan’s summer is heralded by the lily arrival,

a splendid time for those sprinting by on bike or

in auto beneath the year’s first searing solstice spell.

Something about their sudden influx makes us smile:

organic orange sparkler on a stem, cool creamsicle

on a stick, swaying verge profusion of scores of jaunty

pyrotechnic blooms that leapt up for no reason other

than to make us chuckle; or perhaps to compel us

to forget the charcoal skies and melancholies of winter.

The road bends as do the carrot-colored blossoms

so that there is a constant shifting edge of silent floral

merriment. The underside — somehow ugly with a

dark specter obscuring it — is its classification as

“invasive.” Daylilies were imported, in all their perky

pepperiness, to enhance color in home gardens. But on

a moonless summer night (my fantasy) they absconded,

and became (to some) just a pesky planta non grata.

Yet somehow, they don’t fit the image of a voracious silver

carp, the destructive zebra mussel, or even choking kudzu.

Perhaps that is the underlying reminder: even pure

innocence bathed in beauty can be inherently injurious.

Ulrike Leone—Pixabay.com

Stillness

B. A. Brittingham

Photology—stock.adobe.com

Silence, though not of the dead, or even

that of an early winter snowfall. No,

this is a full hush; one imagines Nature

busily sweeping up the detritus of the

season just past: crumpled leaves, a tiny

frozen field mouse, soggy splintered branches

brought down by gladly forgotten ice storms,

straw colored stubble of last summer’s weeds.

There is a sense of charged fullness as though

at any moment will come an upwelling, a surge

of sudden change that heralds the cheery onset

of another season of hope and anticipated harvest.

From the distance comes a languorous whine

like that of a slow-moving bumblebee:

the highway hum of a lone auto scurrying its way

to parts unknown, while the earth waits expectantly.

It is the moment before a drumroll announces the

commencement of growth, of joy, indeed of

Life, of Existence renewing itself!


Light

Janice Canerdy

Warm days exude rich life renewed,

and all around is golden-hued

in sunlight.

The squirrels chatter-talk with verve.

For entertaining they deserve

the limelight.

Birds gather twigs to build their nests

and trill their tunes to make the best

of daylight.

As night approaches, sunshine flees.

Soon peeking through the tall oak

trees

comes moonlight.

Soft music brings a pensive sigh

as I create a poem by

candlelight.

Respite

Janice Canerdy

When July heat falls to a cooling shower

late in the afternoon, I find porch-swinging

a joy. There’s respite for each plant and flower.

The only lights I need come gently winging

their way to me. The lightning bugs’ bright power

brings memories of childhood days of singing

and playing. Though it’s late, I won’t be going

inside right now. A pleasant breeze is blowing.

Ju see—stock.adobe.com

fergregory—stock.adobe.com


Riverwalk

Jane Briganti

A nature walk

On a Sunday afternoon

Meditation in motion

Early in the day

Or evening by the moon

Changing scenery

Beneath the sky

A bounty of beauty

A walk along the river

You need not a reason why

ann0306—stock.adobe.com


Nature Provides

Gaiyle J. Connolly

danger of falling

an excuse to stand close

the enveloping roar

disguise for hearts beating loudly

foam floating

a reason for fond face touching

we visit waterfalls

watch water fall

nature provides

the exotic, erotic

creates our own hydrosphere

It’s Magic

Stella Mazur Preda

Sh-h-h

Listen

The sky is talking

Stars laugh dance

frolick in indigo heavens.

The moon surreptitiously smiles

winks mischievously.

I gaze to the celestial spheres —

What mysteries hidden

in the ebony firmament?

I continue my solitary walk.

Fireflies light my path

moths tickle my cheeks

winds hum soothingly

wrap me in gentle warmth.

I sit

Ponder

As the sky talks

lois—stock.adobe.com

Elena Abduramanova—stock.adobe.com


Contributor Bios

B. A. Brittingham The author, formerly of New York City and South Florida, is a resident of

Southwestern Michigan, and has published essays in the Hartford Courant; short stories in Florida

Literary Foundation’s hardcover anthology, Paradise; with the University of Georgia Center for

Continuing Education; in the 1996 Florida First Coast Writers’ Festival, in Britain’s World Wide

Writers and in Anthology of Short Stories-2021. “The Note in the Wood,” was a semi-finalist in the

2003 Nelson Algren Awards and was published in the June 2008 issue of Shore Magazine. Poetry has

appeared in Kitchen Sink Magazine, the ocean waves, the Crone’s Words and Green Shoe Sanctuary.

Bruce Levine has spent his life as a writer of fiction and poetry and as a music and theatre professional.

A 2019 Pushcart Prize Poetry nominee, a 2021 Spillwords Press Awards winner, the Featured Writer in

WestWard Quarterly Summer 2021 and his bio is featured in “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020.”

Bruce has over three hundred works published on over twenty-five on-line journals including Ariel

Chart, Spillwords, The Drabble; nearly seventy print books including Poetry Quarterly, Haiku Journal,

Tipton Poetry Journal; Halcyon Days and Founder’s Favourites (on-line and print) and his shows have

been produced in New York and around the country. His work is dedicated to the loving memory of his

late wife, Lydia Franklin. A native Manhattanite, Bruce now lives and writes in Maine. Visit him

at www.brucelevine.com

Carolyn Chilton Casas lives on the central coast of California, the perfect landscape for a love of

hiking and playing beach volleyball. She is a Reiki master and teacher, whose favorite theme for writing

is about ways to heal. Her stories and poems have appeared in Braided Way, Energy, A Network for

Grateful Living, Reiki News Magazine, Touch, and in other publications. You can read more of

Carolyn’s work on Facebook, on Instagram at mindfulpoet_, or in her first collection of poems titled Our

Shared Breath.

Dr. William Waters is an associate professor, in the Department of English at the University of

Houston Downtown. Along with Sonja Foss, he is coauthor of Destination Dissertation: A Traveler’s Guide

to a Done Dissertation. His research and teaching interests are in writing theory and modern grammar.

Gaiyle J. Connolly, a poet and artist from Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, has numerous publications to her

credit, some of them prize-winning. They appear in local and international periodicals and journals. Her

collection of poetry, Lifelines, which she also illustrated, was published in 2015. Her background of

several ethnicities, love of art and travel and devotion to social justice are reflected in her work. Her

readership includes Canada, the United States, Mexico and India. She is Past President of the Tower

Poetry Society in Hamilton and has been active in poetry groups in Mexico. She is at the moment

working on her second book of poetry for which once again she will provide illustrations. As a change

of pace, she is trying her hand at short story writing inspired by her childhood years spent in rural

Janice Canerdy is a retired high-school English teacher from Potts Camp, Mississippi. She has been writing

poetry for decades. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications, including Halcyon (November

2014), Halcyon Days, Lyric Magazine, Parody, Lighten Up Online, the Society of Classical Poets Journals, and

the contest journals of the Mississippi Poetry Society and the National Federation of State Poetry Societies. She

has had one book published, Expressions of Faith (Christian Faith Publishing, 2016).

Jane Briganti lives and works in Maine. Her poetry has been frequently published

by Creations Magazine and has appeared in journals including WestWard Quarterly, Better

Than Starbucks, Spillwords and Leaves of Ink. She believes poetry is the soul’s way of

communicating with itself.


Joan Mazza worked as a medical microbiologist, psychotherapist, and taught workshops on

understanding dreams and nightmares. She is the author of six self-help psychology books, including

Dreaming Your Real Self. Her poetry has appeared in Rattle, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Prairie

Schooner, Italian Americana, Poet Lore, Slant, The Nation, and elsewhere. She lives in rural central

Virginia.

Linda Hughes has Oklahoma roots and now live in the wonderland of Florida. I absorb

sunshine and poetry, enjoy painting on the lanai, meditating under palms, running here and there.

I love being surprised by the animals that wander out of the jungle and pass through my world.

My work has been published in The American Journal of Nursing's (AJN) Art of Nursing,

Humana Obscura, Plainsongs,The Evening Street Review and others.

Monique Berry is the founder of Halcyon Days, Founder’s Favourites, and the upcoming

Perspectives Magazine dedicated to inanimate objects describing their environment. She is

published in several publications including Writers Digest, Sitters Companion and Rattle. She

loves writing and getting inspired in cafés and tea rooms. She is working on her first novel

Jacob’s Secret.

Nolen Price is a first-year student at Susquehanna University pursuing a degree in creative

writing. He has been previously published in Rivercraft Magazine and Ambidextrous

Bloodhound Press. He was born in Texas and now resides in Pennsylvania. He mainly writes

poetry and hopes to make writing into his career.

Nolo Segundo pen name of L.J. Carber, 74, in his 8th decade became a published poet in over 70

online/in print literary journals and anthologies in the US, UK, Canada, Romania, India and Italy. In 2020

a trade publisher released a book length collection, THE ENORMITY OF EXISTENCE, and in 2021 a

2nd book, OF ETHER AND EARTH. Both titles (as do many of his poems) reflect the awareness he's

had for 50 years since having an NDE whilst almost drowning that he has a consciousness that predates

birth and survives the death of the body—what poets once called the soul. He was also nominated for the

Pushcart Prize 2022 by an online journal. A retired teacher (America, Japan, Taiwan, Cambodia), he has

been married 41 years to a smart and beautiful Taiwanese woman.

Sammy Anderson is an award winning independent filmmaker residing in North Hollywood,

California. Understanding higher education was not for him, he spent much of his early

adulthood traveling the United States and gaining hands-on experience in his fields of passion.

Although he has been writing his entire life, he has only recently begun setting his sights on

getting his work published.

Stella Mazur Preda is a resident of Waterdown, Ontario, Canada. Having retired from

elementary teaching in Toronto, she is owner and publisher of Serengeti Press, a small press

publishing company, located in the Hamilton area. Since its opening in 2003, Serengeti Press has

published 43 Canadian books. Serengeti Press is now temporarily on hiatus. Stella Mazur Preda

has been published in numerous Canadian anthologies and some US, most notably the purchase

of her poem My Mother’s Kitchen by Penguin Books, New York. Stella has released four

previous books, Butterfly Dreams (Serengeti Press, 2003); Witness, Anthology of

Poetry (Serengeti Press, 2004), edited by John B. Lee; From Rainbow Bridge to Catnip Fields (Serengeti Press,

2007) The Fourth Dimension, (Serengeti Press, 2012). She is a current member of Tower Poetry Society in

Hamilton, Ontario and The Ontario Poetry Society. Stella is currently working on her fifth book, Tapestry, based

on the life of her aunt and written completely in poetic form.



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