A wish by starlight

A poem inspired by this haunting photograph by Paul Militaru. I had thought I would write something different. Maybe I still will.



When golden light’s full of the twitter

Of swallows in dancing air,

And the poplar trees sway in the glitter

Of starlight on meadowgrass where

The hare ventures out of the hedgerow,

Beneath the windy trees

And sniffs in the hazy moonglow

Scents on the southern breeze.

He runs through the willows by moonlight,

Along the rushy stream;

I send him a wish by starlight,

Keep out of the treacherous beam,

For more eyes than fox’s are spying

At the dark wood’s edge.

So keep from the moonbeams, lying

Hid in the kindly sedge,

Where the blundering hounds won’t find you,

In their early morning foray,

May the bold, bitter scent of feverfew

Guard your beauty another day.


Roll up, roll over

A satirical little number for Sarah’s dverse prompt.


It’s no game for some,

for the poor and the hopeless,

for the kids with no jobs,

their teeth stolen by crack.

Look how he smiles,

the ringmaster president,

look at the cut of his Armani suit.

He smiles at the man

with the electric cattle prod,

smiles at the hunter, dead hare in hand,

but he never smiles up

to the shadowy gallery

at the unsmiling faces who didn’t see the fun.

And when he is whisked away

in his flash cavalcade,

and the raggedy army creep into the streets,

he never sees how

they root in the rubbish bins—

the circus has gone,

there are no voters here.