Moonstruck Minnows

A full moon hangs heavy over the holler
So distant from highways and urban sprawl.
It is almost butter yellow up there,
Pushed deep into a purple velvet night.
Below, it pulls at the thick mists
That wrap round the skirt of the hills
Causing them to dance an' swirl
Like a gypsy woman dancin' for her lover.
Dancin' an swirlin' so intense
That plain mountain folks remember
Stories of them gypsy woman
Stealin' babies an castin spells.
The mist causes old wives tales
To swirl an' dance in their imaginations.

The moon reflects oddly
On the polished marble surfaces
Of monuments, memorials an' slick headstones
High on a ridge up yonder,
Overlookin' a small gatherin' of cabins.
Not enough homes coveyed up together to be a town
Or even a village, just a blink in the road.
Moon reflects briefly on a pop bottle,
RC cola bottle cast aside with no thought
Of redemption.

Pregnant moon reflects an' tugs
At an ancient creek
Wanderin' unbridled, unkempt
Through the silent holler.
Its gurgle and splash seems too loud
As folks nearby sleep on.
The moon reflects almost perfect like
On the surface of the creek,
Stuttered by an occasional ripple,
Interrupted here an' again
By the flick of a minnow's tail.

Reflected only briefly on their sides,
In the flash of dozens of minnows
Flickin' to the surface,
Flippin' like crazy
Crazy from the moon.
Moonstruck Minnows.





copyright Stephen Hollen 8/18/2008

Muddy Dreary Day

Rainy day, too warm day
Not frosty, cold December Day
No fluffy snowy day
Muddy, dreary December Day
Windy, cloud pushy sort of day.
Not a winter sort of day.

Wet Dog Day

It is a dark and dampy, misty morning
A smelly wet dog, flea bitten day
Thunder cracker-boomer-banger
Rumble an' grumbly sort of start
Snuggle buggle under quilts an' covers
Hide your head an' roll right over day
A day for fires burnin' slow like,
Woodstoves cherry reddish kinda morn.

Awaiting the Dawn

Those who love the dawn rise up early
Quietly slipping out of bed to dress quickly
Stepping down old stairs one by one
That one spot, comfortable and warm
Waits for us, inviting us to sit and watch
The spectacle of night giving way to day.
Sometimes our hands grip mug or china cup
Full of coffee, tea, warming hands and body
As the beginning of a new day warms the earth.
It is dark just now, still a few stars in the night sky
Yet soon, very soon the eastern sky will shimmer
Just hints of pink at first, then reds, oranges will filter in
And creation will replay that first day
When God stepped out into the darkness, looked around
Threw out a multitude of suns that rolled through the Heavens
Bumping and careening through creation, finding just the spot
Settling in and beginning to spin, throwing off sparks
Warming and glowing, bringing life and waiting, waiting
Till God, that Master Painter grins, lifts hand to a canvas of nothing
And speaks soft and low, not wanting to take all the glory
Gently, He spins that big old ball of gasses we await
"Let there be light."  And it was so.

So, we sit and wait, patiently.
Warm in the darkness, content,
For the first glimpse of morning on the horizon
For the first glimpse of dawn.

Gravy Thick Dawn

Dawn and fog is gravy thick
Not merely a misty morn.
It lays heavy, damp and leaden
Weighing down on leaf and tree
Making spirits sulky, sad.
One wonders if the sun
Will be able to push, cut, tear
Through and bring today?