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Image by Jr Korpa




Tin baths

            one steamed

to stars

             one cooled

to Mars



as olive-branched








               Great Owl hoot


scoop of etched

               wing reflects


a cusp of leaf 


tender as a plaid

of words

               yet swum

An original poem by Nancy Cavers Dougherty, Westview, May 2010


that there is tule fog across the fields most winter dawns

binds to the grass        trunks of trees late blooms of roses 

            orange perennials

                                       vehicles flash past

last vestige of color grayed over

to almost nothing perceptible            just a last trace of

living plant matter        greenery holding onto ravaged dirt &

things like fences & roadways with trucks commuters

ancient rites of movement propel us forth and over

rock & lava       over graves and mislaid tools dusty

                                                   ledgers & records

of past harvests & seasons crops of another day – 


fossil fuels & big-wheeled tractors & wineries

dotting the hillocks 

that the life of cows moves over to the next pasture

                         ranchers & cowboys too  their shadows

                                      across the fields most winter dawns

An original poem by Nancy Cavers Dougherty, West Marin Review, May 2019
Foggy Field
Image by Florian Klauer

Sounds of Winter
                                 Anna Maria Island, Florida

pure punctuations of childvoice bounce over

             white fence, high pitch of innocence


under-rumble of pool equipment


a dog barks, casually, occasionally


low murmur of the Gulf beyond—

                                      cry of gulls


the sunglare, the white sands, pink flamingos on pillows, 

             walls, coasters hum Just Like Paradise


shadows of palms flit and waver over the stucco 

             of one-story beach homes, a pantomime


fronds moving, whispering all-day long, like close-bound



gentle season teases

An original poem by Nancy Cavers Dougherty, The 2021 Redwood Writers Poetry Anthology: Beyond Distance

Ringed in the Heart

Twisted turned upwards flat

     or pinioned. "Which one is this?"

I hold out a branch and cone 

within my palm as we hike on a trail loop 

     to Lake Juniper.


All this growth what is left after fire &

ash through the millennium. Soft bed 

of needles chunks of bark and pulp 

     crunch with each step.


Without words, we breathe in 

sweetness of sap and rings of 

     the years, now being carried away 

by the black ants. They work

    in pairs, have burrows, are quicker

than freight trains. Dragonflies.

     Speed boats.


If you can't count

     the waves whyever could

you count the years. Ringed in

your heart held in blood-sap

     closed & tight as a fist. 


Like the cones of the white fir 

irregular each section &

     indestructible. Fire water wind

and dirt held for eternity.


     The shoots of the miniature

 trees abound.

An original poem by Nancy Cavers Dougherty, I-70 Review, Summer/Fall 2016
Image by Joshua Hoehne
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