by Karen Petersen

There’s a day in August
when the butterflies arrive, 
the dogs of summer are silent, 
the highways less rushed. 

A light breeze blows through the window
with memories of other times
and parents that were once young. 

The cricket sings, a rampant buzzing
in the languid, silky air,
the first scudding clouds appear
teasing the promise of rain. 




Karen Petersen, adventurer, photojournalist and poet, has traveled the world extensively, publishing both nationally and internationally in a variety of publications. Most recently, she was published in The Manzano Mountain Review in the USA, The Bosphorus Review in Istanbul, Antiphon in the UK and A New Ulster in Northern Ireland. New work will be appearing in the Saranac Review in the USA and Idiom 23 in Australia. In 2015, she read "In Memory of W.B. Yeats" at the Yeats Festival in Santa Fe, New Mexico and the KGB Bar in NYC. Her poems have been translated into Persian and Spanish.