December 2003

Unseasonal

14 down … Goddess of spring …

Of course.

“Persephone.”

She fits perfectly

And the rest are all a snap.

Flightless bird, now, of course, yes, a glowing spark,

Five letters, beginning with "e"

— an e-m-b-e-r.

... remember ...

You glance across at the neglected fire

sputtering, hungry.

A stoke, another log, the glowing grows.

It is brighter ...

A patch of sunlight drifts across the afternoon floor.

There, too, it's been hours since you noticed it.

The crossword all but invocation.

Outside, the birds jumble together

in a mad dress rehearsal for spring, to welcome her ...

BUZZZZzzzzzz ...

A housefly startles to life against a partly sunny storm window.

The last fly of the season or the first of the next,

Who can tell? You spring to life, and ...

Whap

A life and death struggle on a deceptively quiet Saturday.

The cat meows her disapproval.

You had a crossword — the fly was her distraction.

Your cup of cocoa exhales its last breath of steam.

You drink it down, energized.

There’s always more, and marshmallows, too.

The mail truck scatters the birds, but they eventually reconvene.

There's seeds, today, and breadcrumbs, and water from a puddle.

And you have those boots that are never quite dry,

and that heavy coat ...

No, not today.

Your threadbare morning sweater lies cozy where you left it.

The microwave knows well enough how to make cocoa.

And the sweater, today, is warm enough for the walk.

– Terry J. Aman