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untitled by James Morehead

July 2, 2011

untitled

by James Morehead

black ice
forming on bare winter trees
outside
the sharp glare of streetlights
hitting frozen branches
cascading in slivers
                                thin rays
of reflected light

wind fierce in moments
of terrible glory
an oak bough sent down
crashing along the road
a thousand tiny shimmering splintered cystals
a black persian fleeing in fright
we jump

a thunderclap and our house goes silent
black
we scurry for matches
                                   and candles
praying
our imagined foes of nightfall
childhood fears
do not lurk in darkness

the coated trees become shadows
laughing at deadened streelights under a dimmed new moon

Next in Pony Ride in the Sky

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