Leire’s very cool (and haunting) version of Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

Very Interesting!

                            pixabay
(From MentalFloss.com) 

10 Medieval Words You Use Every Day

You probably say these words every day without realizing they were born in the Middle Ages.

  

 https://www.mentalfloss.com/language/words/medieval-words-use-every-day?utm_source=firefox-newtab-en-us

Yes! Autumn Poetry: A Collection for the Season has a new cover. It's an oil on canvas landscape painting titled, Autumn, Brandywine Valley, Pennsylvania, by American artist Bruce Crane - 1910. It's a softer image which I think fits the book a little better, and is from Wikimedia Commons. (Public Domain)

Summer Solstice

sun devotion 

month of June

horses 

graze

across the moon

fields of corn

spark and rise

the longest day

roars

then dies.. 

 

2026 Jan Darrow

 

 

Probabilities

I tell you about

the stars and you name them

like numbers -

trigonometry I don't understand

or geometric probabilities of war.

 

The minutes move

from a day. Hours fall

like seconds

into a new paradigm shift.

 

Words spread across world history

written

the likes not seen

for centuries.

 

(c) Jan Darrow 2026

(Accepted by After/Thought Literary - but closed its doors before it could be published.) 

Dear Readers,

Ah! I don’t know where the time goes. Yes. I’m still here and writing! 

I wanted to let you know that After/Thought Literary let me know today that they are publishing two of my poems in their June issue. I’m thrilled! I will post the link when it’s up.

I hope you’re well and enjoying the weather! 

💛 Jan

 

House at Dusk

 

Upstairs a door is closing -

voices evaporate.

 

The heat of the day is gone.

 

Outside,

spent lilacs burnish color

onto panes of glass.

Trees spin darkness against the sky.

 

The garden is iridescent.

White clusters

of viburnum globes shimmer

in the filtering shadows.

 

The earth shifts.

Then, a gust of wind roars

through the trees.

 

Clouds move in

but not before the stars

begin to move across the sky.

They leave their pallor sails

to the wind

while a crisp white moon

is forever moored

to the tides.

 

First published by Poppy Road Review  

2025 Jan Darrow