photoart: ralph murre
At the
Still Point
by
Susan T. Moss
Fixed
gazes stare from the museum’s
glass
cases filled with stuffed
and
groomed New England wildlife,
a
collection to refashion nature’s
nuances
in rainbow hues and textures.
A
barred owl gnaws a dead mouse,
a
mounted cougar crouches in wait,
two
beavers chisel birch logs –
all
forever feathered and furred.
Outside,
stars salute the cool night,
bronze
and russet festoon
the
season while tarnished plants
spill
spice and musk.
Through
the dark,
my
warm breath spirals in rhythm
with
pitched trills of one bird
that
refuses sleep.
~
first published in After Hours
