Poems


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From Beast at the Hearth

Moonlight is sweeping
across the garden;
the hearth no longer roars.

Through the shortened night
they sleep arm in arm, sisters
like halves of a locket:

one dreams of his return,
a paw at the door
like a gentleman's fist--

and one is tracking clues,

even in dreams
the home of the bear
lost among trees:

a rabbit, flushed,
streaks across her path.
And a crow in the sky

calls, calls, calls.

On the pillow, tangled,
strands of blond hair,
strands of black.

(from Beast at the Hearth, Adastra Press, 2005.)