The Peaceful Pelican, Palacios, Texas

Sandi Stromberg

April 5, 2026

I ignore uncertainty, the news, the refrigerator’s open door, argue 

with GPS until my route is settled. Destination, the Gulf. A desire

for predictable waves lapping wooden piers. To nest at The Peaceful 

Pelican. To breathe in the Sunrise Room—marigold walls, views 

of tidal currents, gulls mewling. To rock on the front porch, 

my mind quiet, my nerves nodding off. I even conjure

a pod of pelicans. Outside the window, early morning’s dark 

finds a sliver of moon reluctant to abandon night, despite 

slashes of gold and rose, a tip of sun zipping open the horizon. 

Gulls glide willy-nilly above the water, a chaotic chorus. 

I want to join their mewling, prove I’m worthy of their company,

of this retreat to the sea. As the day saunters, clouds 

commandeer the sky. Gone the murmur of tide against wood—

swallowed by thunder. Pounding rain rushes into 

Tres Palacios Bay, stalls. Gulls hunker down, silent, 

while I perch, serenaded by hours 

of tap dancing on the roof, the divine deluge 

falling in sheets of music. 

Sandi Stromberg is the author of Frogs Don't Sing Red and Moonlight, Shaken (coming in early 2026). Her poems recently appeared in Synkroniciti, San Pedro River Review, Red River Review, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Panoply, MockingHeart Review, and The Senior Class. An editor at The Ekphrastic Review, she edited two poetry anthologies—Untameable City and Echoes of the Cordillera. 

coastal memories

Sister Lou Ella Hickman

April 5, 2026

once i lived five blocks from the corpus christi bay

with its small coastline that could reek low tide

if the wind was up

during the spring and summer

the wind surfers hoisted sails wiping like colorful flags

someone told me 

they even came from out of state to dance this curve of water

driving by on clear days 

i could see ships slowly slide across the horizon

that would later dock and unload at our port . . .

another memory also flashes back—

less than five hundred miles north

another coast

a small pond with a sandy shore

hidden within a small embrace of unnamed trees

often our cattle came to drink—

its water pushing back the dry july heat

from their small red and white faces

Sister Lou Ella Hickman, OVISS writings have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies. Press 53 published her first book of poetry in 2015 entitled she: robed and wordless and her second, Writing the Stars on October 4, 2024. She was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2017 and 2020.  

Padre Island Remembrances

Betsy Joseph

March 1, 2026

Feeling somewhat like a tourist

in my own life,

I sat on my haunches

in the early August sun

while observing my two sons

then ages six and three

navigate the sandy beach

with their plastic pails and shovels

oblivious to the detritus

along the shoreline

and simply delighted with their finds:

broken seashells,

empty soda cans,

garlands of sea algae

which they draped around their necks

as if young warriors

in a coming-of-age ceremony.

The scene looked foreign to me.

I recalled the pristine sandy stretch

conjured from long ago

now missing, now replaced

by eroding shoreline and a smell

more dank than salty.

My sons saw only treasures

and embraced all the wonders

in their version of paradise.

They missed nothing.

Betsy Joseph lives in Dallas and has poems that have appeared in a number of journals and anthologies. She is the author of two poetry books published by Lamar University Literary Press: Only So Many Autumns (2019) and Relatively Speaking (2022), a collaborative collection with her brother, poet Chip Dameron.

Swash Zone

Vincent Hostak

March 1, 2026

A creature burrowing in shore sand

has no impulse to hide from you.

It’s a coincidence that you should have passed

to gaze upon its minute drama.

It’s holding fast to its shaky ground

just below the uprush and backwash,

evading a thumping, minding its meter,

then poking up like a word you lost.

Vincent Hostak is a writer and media producer from Texas now living with his family and faithful canine, Lola, near the Front Range of Colorado. His recently published poems are found in the journals The Dewdrop (Vanessa Able, Editor-In-Chief), Sonder Midwest, The Langdon Review of the Arts in Texas, and the Texas Poetry Assignment.  His contributions also appear in the anthologies The 30th Annual Poetry Ink Anthology (Moonstone Arts, Philadelphia, 2025), Lone Star Poetry, and The Senior Class-100 Poets on Aging (Lamar University Press, Laurence Musgrove, Editor). His podcast on classic and contemporary poetry, and the novel ways it reaches audiences, relaunches in 2026.