Member-only story
POETRY
The Visitor
The Visitor, 1
Who, who is it
that comes in the night
half expected but still a surprise
when the windows cast shade
and the neighborhood sleeps
Who is it that calls
into the darkness
with a voice deep and resonant
over long distances
sharp nails wrapped
around a leafless branch
waiting, then not waiting
Something flies, silent,
from the roof
a half-shadow
my eyes search the bare trees
for a familiar silhouette
an early winter who’s who
wild courier of dreams
refusing domestication
or even to be seen
The Visitor, 2
Gentle acrobat
tiptoe fenceline, wet morning
winter reminder:
even all these neighborhoods
can’t evict nature’s residence
A twofer today! Thank you, readers!
