Poems #111 and 112: “First Contact” and “Erato’s Kiss”

First Contact

Looking out the viewport,
I see a forest of tiny green
fronds with thin, leafless
stems and featherlike crests
standing silent vigil, as if they
are toy soldiers arranged
for a battle long forgotten—
or about to begin.

© 2015, all rights reserved.

__________

Erato’s Kiss

She wore a gown of raven wings
wrought from broken feathers,
and warbled like the sparrow sings
in bleak and cold December.

Her song befell a troubled man
that dark and dreary midnight,
and left behind a haunting strain
that plagued him through his life.

He called to her—again, again—
longing for an answer,
but she did not return to him
that maiden lost, his sweet Lenore.

© 2015, all rights reserved.

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