Phone Call in the Night

Interrupting simple sleep and unsuspecting resting eyes, a sound startles in the deep, announcing end of someone’s life.   Alarmingly—as if a horn— the phone rings, loud and cold. He’s gone—a voice says—early morn, and gone, serenity of old.   No tolling bell or mourning doves, no heralding of angel’s flight. One more passing, one… Continue reading Phone Call in the Night

Wreckage of the Natatorium of 1886: A Villanelle

When wind is still, and tide is low, revealed: the dark and weeping wood, the vestiges of long ago.   Halfway down the beach, the bones of pilings stand (where people stood) when wind is still and tide is low.   Their histories, their lives and loves, the sunfilled days and moons of gold? Whispers… Continue reading Wreckage of the Natatorium of 1886: A Villanelle