Lynn Kincade

It is the black smoke rising
Oozing through shuttered windows
seeping into quiet corners
Blocking the heart from
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An elusive scent
The ghost of winter falters
On one plum blossom
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I remember
Hot summer days
with tarred sidewalks
sucking at ones feet
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A dark moon rising
mirrors despair upon the lake.
Black covers the waves,
smothering the winter light.
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Opened my eyes this morning
On a day so fine
Hopped right up and jumped right up
To see what’s online
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Oh sweet oblivion
That moment when the wailing wind is muted
and the storm ceases lashing the windowpane
Softly dripping downwards sliding
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Fireflies dancing
Constellations flickering
In the bedroom sky
Black corpses with crystal tails
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The little one sighs
Snowflakes melt before the dawn
Still the hembra weeps
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(Just a note. For those of you that don't own peacocks - we have 17 - the males lose their long tail feathers in autumn - not that it stops them struttin' the peacock rag)

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Stillness hides the stars
Serge and tree frogs call the wind
Three raindrops tumble
Into deluge then hush falls
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