Eowyn

His kiss was not the expected promise.
Waiting in your cold chamber is worse in winter
without the sun to cheer you, without your walks
by starlight, consolation for long nights alone.
In the end, Eowyn, it is the same: cook a meal,
pick up a broom. Clean, wait, remain. Live
in your moment of glory remembering
the one demon you slayed.

Best Wishes

I wish you a white dog, the touch of her fur and
tongue, and six sided snowflakes to melt on your skin.

I wish you wide silent roads and a dog who watches
falling snow, a dog whose joy feeds your own.

I wish you brown horses wearing purple blankets, safe within
the angles of their paddocks, still against a backdrop of sugar
flakes and tinseled trees and a dog that leaps and dances beneath.

Music

Over the phone his voice is
the smallest part of a man who
fills door frames, towers and leans
like trees. But his laughter leaps
through the line, spreading outside,
touching tips of pines, the talon of an owl.
Startled from its reverie the bird rises
ponderously, wings softly sifting,
the sound of waves rising to the
clean stars, mingling and ringing,
the owl's and the man's music.