We will post members’ short prose pieces. No more that 500 words please.


We will post members’ poetry on this page. The most recent is first and you can scroll down.

Preston Tyree: Copyright 1999

Wrote this after I saw an article about a woman artist who had the opportunity to play a flute that was made from the wing bone of a crane. It was thousands of years old.

Echoes of Cranes
Five notes, haunting, minor thirds, primitive scale
polished wing bone of a crane, long dead
hollowed, drilled with a wooden stick
each hole placed precisely to mimic
wind sounds through black and white feathers.

Awed, reverently the musician fingers the bone
sounds the notes, dreams of songs that 
echo generations who watched cranes
plane into rice paddies, dance and mate
circle up on the wind, sweeping away at dusk.

Gently, carefully, she places this fragile bone flute
on velvet, black as night, soft as dawn
and dreams of elders who taught young women,
to watch cranes, listen to wind songs,
against a night sky, a thousand years away.