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Showing posts from October, 2016

The Call

©Shers Gallagher 2016
The days grow colder and my heart grows bolder
to hear the call of the totem wolf, 
though limbs begin to rattle like the branches of a tree
as leaves turn bright before they fade and quietly fall,
drifting down and crumbling into air 
that smells of crackling pine and roasting logs of cedar.
I missed you then as I miss you now. 
But most of all I miss my youth 
and the dance I used to be.
Not the dance of whirring bees,
because I never was a hostile takeover. 
I miss the playful shadows of light
and soft breezes on silken feathers.
I miss the easiness of then, 
though, in truth I’m more physically comfortable now. 
And yet I’d give it all up for only a few more 
playful shadows of twilight and silken days. 

Aisling Books

After Storm Matthew

©Shers Gallagher 2016


...we gather our lives with roots and fronds that we glean and shuck away. Damage assesses as power returns the roofs overhead of family and friends now safe and dry.
We begin again, mattering more than all our treasured gleam collected in hoards of attic-filled piles while the eye of the storm approaches as the evening's thief we’ve been ever watching yet still comes round in one short breath to so easily steal our lives away.
What matters more than only this? To be generous of heart and gracious of mind and exceed beyond the glory of self as we allow all to live in peace and calm to weather another day.