Mountain Magic

A fiery star
Shoots across the sky
A wish in the palm of my hand
The firmament is alive with
Sparkling lights
Endlessly dancing in and out
The Milky Way
A shining highway in the heavens
Guiding me ever on
To a new adventure
The warm glow
Of a crackling fire
As sparks spiral upward
To join in the celestial dance
At ten thousand feet
The mountains give up their magic
There is no sleeping
On a Rocky Mountain night

By Ann Christine Tabaka

campfire at night in mountains


Tabaka Author PhotoAnn Christine Tabaka was born and lives in Delaware. She is a published poet, an artist, a chemist, and a personal trainer. She loves gardening, cooking, and the ocean. Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her poems have been published in numerous national and international poetry journals, reviews, and anthologies. Chris has been selected as the resident Haiku poet for Stanzaic Stylings.

Eternal Summer

The dawn wakes to memories
of barefoot summers on cool green grass.

Swirling patterns in the coffee,
premonitions of days to come.
Visions rising from the fragrant steam,
filling the room with warm contentment.

Outside my window, the soft amber light of morning
filtered through trees imparts a dreamy
feeling, bestowing the day with hope.

A soft breeze stirs over the gardens as the
wildflowers raise their smiling faces to be kissed
by pollinators busy making morning rounds.

Shadows grow short as the day grows long.
I am drawn back to my coffee as I contemplate
peaceful moments, deep seated with the wish
of eternal summer.

By Ann Christine Tabaka

woman sitting by summer window


Tabaka Author PhotoAnn Christine Tabaka was born and lives in Delaware. She is a published poet, an artist, a chemist, and a personal trainer. She loves gardening, cooking, and the ocean. Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her poems have been published in numerous national and international poetry journals, reviews, and anthologies. Chris has been selected as the resident Haiku poet for Stanzaic Stylings.

Photo of window by Vadim Georgiev

The Garden

I tire of the cold and rain
The garden calls to me
Lonely and forlorn, it awaits my arrival
Lovingly inviting me in

Pots of tender seedlings
Excited to be planted in perfect rows
Some demanding to be placed randomly
In an array of beautiful chaos

Kneeling, the soft earth gives in
And hugs my tired old legs
Lovingly cushioning my way
As I move from plant to plant

I place my fingers deep into welcoming earth
The soil remembers me
Giving way to my hands
Opening up to receive the soft roots

The sun warms my back
Bees greet me along the way
Alighting on each newly planted treat
Birds serenade from the branches above

Time passes too fast
As my labor of love continues on
The garden smiles back at me
It is good to be with my old friend again

By Ann Christine Tabaka

woman in her backyard garden


Tabaka Author PhotoAnn Christine Tabaka was born and lives in Delaware. She is a published poet, an artist, a chemist, and a personal trainer. She loves gardening, cooking, and the ocean. Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her poems have been published in numerous national and international poetry journals, reviews, and anthologies. Chris has been selected as the resident Haiku poet for Stanzaic Stylings.

Photo of garden by ammentorp