December Migration
She sets her gaze
the way she used to choose
a patch of night and patiently wait
for stars to fall.
One by one they pass,
blow and breech on a Solstice sea.
She is captured, filled with the magic
of moon and giant, gifts unknown
in a glittered past when halls decked
and candles lit, she waited on wishes
instead of whales.
by Patricia Wallace Jones
Editor’s Note: The deceptive simplicity of this poem belies the complex story behind the narrator’s words. Time passes. Wishes evolve.
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