canticle of waning light

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Photo: Victoria Slotto

canticle of waning light
a quadrille

whisper me now a lullaby
and hold me close in mystic
arms of memory

whisper me songs
of yesterday
when dreams throbbed
promises, danced
with love beneath the stars

whisper me peace
‘neath setting sun
and grace shall linger
in the gloom
of night.

Please join us at dVerse Poets’ Pub where we are enjoying Quadrille’s–poetry of exactly 44 words. This week’s word that must be included in the poem is WHISPER. The pub doors open Monday at 3:00 PM EST. De Jackson is our hostess and she pours a mean poem.

Beginnings and Endings

 

BbeginningsBeginnings and Endings

The day before Christmas, the lifeless body of a robin
lay, supine, among clods of frozen dirt
in the bare, raised bed of our vegetable garden.

His breast, striated with not-quite crimson plumage—
plump, yet breathless, lay still, where only weeks ago
plump crimson tomatoes prospered, awaited harvesting.

I cradled his body in my hand, resting in the folds
of a plastic bag that, just yesterday, held apples,
tied it tight before consigning it to a barrel caching autumn leaves.

That night we sipped champagne, feted birth,
celebrated promises fulfilled again each day,
awaited the coming of light that would dispel the darkness.