Mommy's Corner

 There was no moon that night. Yet the garden shimmered in ghostly gray, as if clinging to wisps of the passing day. Beyond the black trees one light flickered, then another, an iridescent glow of garnets and topaz began to grow, filling the air like shooting stars, caught in woven strands of silver rain, like candlesticks wrought in ancient Spain. We followed the flames over the rain glaced lawn, our bare feet dancing as if on an empty stage carpeted with emerald mint and purple sage. Their crushed perfume marked where we had gone to lie down beneath the dripping trees and gaze up threw the jewel tipped leaves to where the silence of mid-summer night was broken by the soft whisper of the firefly Brushing its wings against the tear stained sky.

 These fields we pass in February Wear a mottled tawny pelt  like that of a shaggy ancient lion Whos to tired to pounce or fight. He lies with heaving yellow chest  uplifting towards the diluted sun waving his cattail like a metromone  against the winters wind. ******* No snow or grass covers these bruised gray mountain ranges. An early march rain came and scoured clean every dusty, rusty patch.  The metallic crevices ooze  with icy tears, waiting for the sun, Like a loving mother, to come out and offer down her healing kisses. You and I rush down the highway looking for signs of an early spring.  but see fallen trees and fallen branches Piled high like twisted frames of eroding see sunning on an abandoned used car lot.