Snow seals the thin yard in an envelope mailing autumn’s grass to spring. The orange sun illuminates the brass telescope, a cold ingot still bright enough to singe an optic floater on the sky, eyelash above the hawk, electric over wire, wings foreshortened to a penciled moustache. Age and loneliness now kindle a fire, a piecemeal denouement served underhand, spare bones in a kettle time will render into soup-- memories the ampersand of connective tissue. Painful. Tender. All that decays was once photogenic. The aging sun is a pomegranate.
-- Earl Keener resides in Bethany, WV. He is a graduate of The Franciscan College of Steubenville, a retired gandydancer, an Ohio Valley singer-songwriter and an internationally recognized haiku poet.