Sunday, January 22, 2006
At Dusk, the Cold Front
Out of the great nothing,
something
You, lighters of lanterns,
wait
The stars will illumine
your way
They wait for the dark,
steady
They watch the winds
swirl
Meanwhile the door
percusses
Asleep, the puppy
groans
Out there the bell, old now,
clinks
Will the stars fathom
my words?
And I
their winks?
All around, the forest
roars.
Saturday January 21 2006
copyright 2006 Nancy B. Knowles
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