
The raven’s line
into the wind
lasted minutes before
disappearing from view.
Too cold to turn off the car.
Glasses fogged.
Coffee steam.
The frozen field
quiet company.
The raven’s line
into the wind
lasted minutes before
disappearing from view.
Too cold to turn off the car.
Glasses fogged.
Coffee steam.
The frozen field
quiet company.
Three generations,
seventeen individuals if
we include the two lost in childbirth.
Perhaps not here since
those never knew the warmth
of the potbelly stove fully stoked
when outside temps fell
below zero degrees Fahrenheit.
They share a marker
in the corner of the family plot,
down the path,
beneath a small grove of pines
just beyond the barn:
Clara – Evan
I suppose it is good
they have each other
carved with that distinct dash
demarcating their respective
sides of the badly worn stone.
It would have been
nice to know the year.
1871? 1917?
I guess it does not change
the tenor of this story much.
They never shared a day
playing in the yard.
They never shared the warmth
of the potbelly stove.
Written in response to The Amplification Effect #4, an abandoned house.