Monday, August 12, 2013


Word wedded whispers lie weighty in the boughs of burl trees, leaves shivering lyrical quivers as the poetry passes through the night.  The spirits are awakening, under moon bathlight and starry firmament, they come traipsing stumbling floating flying wafting on a whiff of air, on a weak whirl of wind.  Elsewise, a wolf howls.  The frogs ribbet. The crickets violin.  A fearful memory, a loving touch, a warm bed of soft sheets.  Darkness sits everywhere behind the light.