Clouds freeze the winter sky
bare-bones of bark crisscross it,
soul haunting as a woman’s cry.
The aging house sags against
its ghostly garden in shredded rags
of summer’s last silhouette.
Sullen wind shrieks through shadows
whipping loosened boards leaving
frost to veil the timeworn windows.
An aperture to sky opens and
a single ray of light, delicate as a thread,
reveals a dried and broken chrysalis.
What butterfly has fled?
(c) Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved
bare-bones of bark crisscross it,
soul haunting as a woman’s cry.
The aging house sags against
its ghostly garden in shredded rags
of summer’s last silhouette.
Sullen wind shrieks through shadows
whipping loosened boards leaving
frost to veil the timeworn windows.
An aperture to sky opens and
a single ray of light, delicate as a thread,
reveals a dried and broken chrysalis.
What butterfly has fled?
(c) Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved
