Friday, January 16, 2009

Night Flying

(For Grandma)
Evenings breath grazes the mountain.
Time leaves, death stalks the moon.
From above, heavy souls watch
Grandma's eyes crash into mine,
burning holes in my heart.
I want to cry to her, but the owl
cannot hear. I want to sing to her,
but the dove will not speak.

Deidre Grotbo