It’s April, gerbils and ladybugs. The fruit trees are flinging their blooms on the floor like temperamental flower girls, the warm breezes are riffling the ostrich feathers on our fancy-ass hats, and the robins are CHOMPING WORMS IN HALF and EATING THEM RAW, according to Emily Dickinson, noted chronicler of bird and bee activities.
Like the season, this issue passes swiftly but leaves a lingering impression of wonders and delights. You can read it cover-to-cover and still have time for a sun-dappled stroll through the botanical gardens. Or a moonlit skulk through a haunted forest, if you are of the nocturnal persuasion. Poem from Paul Hostovsky; haiku by Albert Schlaht and Harrison Fisher; flash by Jim Suruda; cover art by Vivien Krantz.
