Lisa's Pumpkins
—Photo by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove
HALLOWEEN NIGHT ON THE VINEYARD
—Carol Louise Moon, Sacramento
—Carol Louise Moon, Sacramento
The air was thick with clouds of gnats.
'Twas Halloween, and very soon
the harvest would be put to vats.
The air was thick with clouds of gnats,
the fruit hung on the vine. The bats
flew silhouetted 'gainst the moon.
The air was thick with clouds of gnats.
'Twas Halloween, and very soon.
______________________
GHOST MOTHS
—Carol Louise Moon
—Carol Louise Moon
She calls them ghost moths, white
nearly see-through moths, bobbing
on ghost airstreams, silent in their
calling out the names of the many
flowers they visit—flowers that
drown in over-watered gardens.
Or weeds that dry out from neglect,
which perish before they can be
named or loved by a butterfly.
These, the ghost moths visit in their
fading, even the cabbage in its
withering.
(first pub. in Brevities, 2010)
______________________
MASK-MAKER'S BIRD
—Taylor Graham, PlacervilleHigh on the workshop wall hung a mask
of carved madrone—a beaked bird.
Raven, eagle, hawk? Hollower than bone
behind its red muscle-grain of wood,
it never spoke, but kept its watch.
A lady opened the door, saw the black-
hole gaze of bird-mask with emptiness
for eyes. How much? she wanted to know.
Not for sale. It was only a family carving.
An instrument chiseled out of song
that begged for lips and fingers forming
sound. No, it was only a wooden bird,
spirit-totem, mankind before he filled his
marrow up with flesh. She wouldn't
understand. The boy at the work-bench
couldn't explain how it looked down
from so high up, so far away. At night,
did it circle above rooftops, beyond
city towers? People locked their mahogany
drawers, keeping things safe inside
their forms. So how could this thing
fly free, its emptiness making sky-music?
It was only the mask of bird.
_____________________
Today's LittleNip:
A house is never still in darkness to those who listen intently; there is a whispering in distant chambers, an unearthly hand presses the snib of the window, the latch rises. Ghosts were created when the first man awoke in the night.
—J.M. Barrie
_____________________
—Medusa
Our thanks to D.R. Wagner for finding this...