Nebraska Center for Writers

by Charlene Neely

I was born on the thirteenth day
of the Hunger Moon.
Brought into the house
of a spirited woman
and a disappearing father.

I learned early to concoct
a breakfast of cold cereal
and last week's milk stirred
into an empty margarine tub
with whatever utensil I could find.

I learned that secrets could
emerge on the surface of water
or be folded into tiny squares
and fed to the flame
of a flickering candle.

I learned to trust
the Earth and the Skies.
The spirit within me
led me to the places that held
the revisions of my life.

I died a withered old woman
in a land become strange
the day a black bird
looked me in the eye
and called my name.

Reprinted with permission
from the month of April!!!!
Copyright © 2008
by Charlene Neely

by Charlene Neely

What has he seen,
this blushing moon
that embarrasses him so?

the cicadas
hugging torsos of elm
while trilling their love songs,

the green chevy
and blue ford
kissing in the intersection,

douglas firs
leaning on wires
until the sparks start flying,

two lovers on a
hidden park bench
remembering days gone by.

Is this what turns
his face so red,
this luscious blushing moon?

Reprinted with permission
Copyright © 2007
by Charlene Neely

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