Contributor: Gayle Newby

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Rowing to the Horn on a spectral silver dawn;
rations in the prow,
blankets to ward off the cold,
necessity prodding him on like a fierce fire brand.
Outer voices vanquished, inner voices stilled.

To get the whorls just so,on a painted ocean shell,
to catch, as in one's hand, the muted shade of a perfect gull
breathing in the gulf until the aching pain retreats.
Lovingly replaced by nature's soothing hand.


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Gayle Newby has been published in Grit Magazine and The Pontotoc Progress Newspaper. Her work is forthcoming in the Spring edition of the Hiram Poetry Review.