Furry Friends

The park is filled with pets. It’s a hot summer day and I can feel the perspiration on my back. I come here every week to watch the dogs run and play, catching frisbees. It’s comical when one small dog grabs the frisbee and runs away under the tree when the owner is waiting.

You can see in the kids’ and parents’ faces, how their dogs make the family complete with their huge smiles, laughter and affection toward their hairy friends.

I didn’t realize the time. I must leave for an important appointment.

A new furry companion awaits my arrival.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Maple Tree

There was a maple tree on the corner of Ryan's yard as he was growing up. When he was seven, the city ordered it cut down because the branches were interfering with the electrical lines. Ryan cried a lot and convinced his mom to fight. It took many hours of sitting in on city council meetings and gathering signatures for a petition, but eventually the power company relented. The tree was saved.

Now the trees are the only things left standing in their old neighborhood. Once the plant revolution started, Ryan and his mom were spared, but the houses weren't.

Chloe

I loved the way Chloe licked her lips after an ice-cold drink, and when her long black hair blew in the breeze. When she tilted her face backward, she looked beautiful.

Chloe set up the picnic while I stood under the tree and watched. She was gorgeous in the way she shook the table cloth and neatly placed it on the grass.

The diamond ring was in my pocket, and I was set to propose on this bright warm, sunny day. She’d love it.

Chloe waved me over and I was ready. Then the unthinkable happened.

It thundered, then rained.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Applesauce

Her family loves apples so despite the fight she carted off in a cardboard box the tree’s fruit. My family has applesauce in its veins, was what she told me. When I saw her there were cores littering her countertops, a pan boiling on the woodstove. Did she see the metaphor? Those gnarled branches over her head. I took her coring knife, though cut fruit was a present I would not be offering, not to my relations. Beside me she sliced another tree-gift. By stovelight our wrists flashed, the lines in them crisscrossing as we worked, tangling and yet not.

From Guest Contributor Colleen Addison

Heart The Size Of A Car

I wake up and it’s almost dark. I hear boom…boom…boom. I think it’s the raccoons jumping across the roof on their way to look for food. Maybe it’s the wind, the porch swing hitting the house, fireworks for some forgotten holiday or the war we've been waiting for but when I pull back the curtain on the window in the door, each rectangle of glass is a piece of your thumping heart, the size of a car, its feathery periwinkle veins like map-rivers, red finger-branches steady, wrapping down around the lower chambers, stamping the glass with tree patterns, knocking. Asking.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook (she/her) is the author of Only Flying, a Pushcart-nominated collection of surreal poetry and flash fiction on paradox, rebellion, transformation, and enlightenment from Unsolicited Press. Her work has won contests and appeared in Monkeybicycle, Empty Mirror, Soundings East, Anthem: A Tribute to Leonard Cohen, and elsewhere. Two new collections, Exodus with Red Delicious and I Drink from an Ear: Real Ghazals, are forthcoming from Unsolicited Press in 2026 and 2027. She is a founding editor of Blue Planet Journal, the founder and facilitator of The Nearby Universe writers’ group, and a professor of creative writing at Pikes Peak State College.

Best Friends Forever

Michael sits on the dock with his feet dangling in the water. Frank lounges next to him, his nose alert for danger or snacks.

Perhaps they will go for a walk along the lake, or follow the dried creek bed up to the moss tree. Or Michael might grab a fishing pole from the shed and spend the afternoon at the shady shore. Frank would probably rather chase squirrels and rabbits in the grassy meadow.

It's the kind of day that you want to freeze in time and make it last forever.

The kind of day made for best friends.

Christmas

Ten-year-old Richie helped his mom decorate the Christmas tree with colorful red, green, and blue lights, and an array of ornaments. When he lit the tree, everything in the room illuminated.

His mom sank into the couch. “Maybe this year Christmas won’t be so lonely.”

Richie sulked, grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the tray and nibbled on it to savor the taste, when the bell rang, and he ran to answer it.

His eyes widened when he saw who stood in front of him. His dad in his navy uniform.

The war had ended, and Christmas was whole again.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Watching Grass Grow

Willow loved the flowers.

Yellow lilies sprouted from breaks in old, torn tree bark. Hydrangeas shot up from the ground so beautifully. Willow waited with anticipation and baited breath as grass grew. She watched every moment of it. As tiny white tips sprouted from the dirt, oh joy of joys, the beginning was so exciting! Then, the tiny blades raised up to the sun, and Willow screamed with excitement. She couldn't contain her joy. She watched impatiently as the leaves turned from green, to yellow, to orange, then brown. The moss grew over Willow's feet. Oh, to be a tree.From Guest Contributor Eliana Diaz

Eliana is an English literature and visual art major at UCCS. She is a feature artist in the 50th edition of Riverrun. She is a large fan of mythology, fantasy, and other make-believe.

Them Big Oak Trees

At first, her followers thought it was intended as a metaphor. Every acorn is a big bang all its own. Every tree the mother of countless worlds.

But the famous scientist was not speaking metaphorically. She'd cracked the greatest secrets of the cosmos. Our universe was born inside a tiny seed, bursting into life, which in turn gave birth to more trees and more universes. The math was both terrifyingly simple and unfathomably beautiful. The world no longer required religion and, without Gods, there was no more war or poverty. Peace and love reigned.

Until a giant squirrel ruined everything.

Giant Oaks

I sighed as my breathing slowed. The sun rose over my head, and I felt the power inside me waking, like the tree in the woods that had grown into giant oaks, covering the forest floor in the summer. I would sit in the shade of those trees until nightfall, waiting for the stars, reaching for the promise of sleep. The light in the sky became a distant memory, and I could almost feel the joy that the moon brought to those born in the middle of winter or during those spring showers that brought new life to the earth.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster