After Amergin I am the wren psalming the rising sun I am the foam of the sea rushing the shore I am the deer that leaps through woods, I am the purple thistle, velvet and sting, I am the otter romping the river, I am the raindrop that sweetens the spring, I am the red … Continue reading Edge of the Echo – by KB Ballentine
We come to the coast – broken, bruised – we reach the edge of our world. Waves stretch, winds shift – freedom in the West. Waked, we want a different, new beginning. Instead, death clings like barnacles on our ships. Anchored in murky holds, this damp womb chokes us. We’re birthed through narrow … Continue reading Born into Legend – by KB Ballentine
Alarm bleeps though it’s still dark outside the windows. Even the street lamp has gone to bed. But I sigh and rise, slip my feet into Monday’s socks — August’s dusky room cool.
for my parents … Saw palmettos sputter under autumn sun, hibiscus burning bright in the landscaped parking lot. Sand, salt cling to flip-flops, cola cans, skin, scatter like a trail of breadcrumbs from car to store.
Dawn blossoms May’s moon, tempts white-winged moths to worship the dew. The widow of Coomcallee limps the river bank, seeks the shallows, water shushing pebble, stone.
Fog smears the valley, ribbons of cherry blossoms pinking dark woods. Your memory tempts me, lures me into the mist where a grouse cackles, something scampers in shadows.
The bluebirds are back – spring can’t be far behind. Bits of blue fleck the feeder though skies still rain gray.
You are always twenty-six. I feel your heart in the beat of wind- shield wipers and rain on the roof.
At the edge of the ocean I find my center – the swell and dip of rhythmic waves journeying from place to place, never stopping, never reaching any home – worrying, teasing the shore then off again
A haze hovers around the border of the valley, smoke trees blazing into bloom, a line of cherry blushing in between. Pollen lazes on bridges, cars.
