A Song For a Dear Friend

Or, as Edna St. Vincent Millay Titled it,

“To the Wife of a Sick Friend”

Shelter this candle from the wind.

Hold it steady. In its light

The cave wherein we wonder lost

Glitters with frosty stalactite,

Blossoms with mineral rose and lotus,

Sparkles with crystal moon and star,

Till a man would rather be lost than found:

We have forgotten where we are.

Shelter this candle. Shrewdly blowing

Down the cave from a secret door

Enters our only foe, the wind.

Hold it steady. Lest we stand,

Each in a sudden, separate dark,

The hot wax spattered upon your hand,

The smoking wick in my nostrils strong,

The inner eyelid red and green

For a moment yet with moons and roses,–

Then the unmitigated dark.

Alone, alone, in a terrible place,

In utter dark without a face,

With only the dripping of the water on the stone,

And the sound of your tears, and the taste of my own.

(shudder)

July’s Frog

We knew she had buried it somewhere near the garden. It wasn’t her toy. We pleaded, demanded, cajoled her to show us where. The other dog was whining. She just grinned at us and laughed with tongue lolling. She never told, but the seasons revealed Pixie’s secret.