FRIDAY NIGHT<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
With a flash of light
\nan eagle splits
\nthe seamless gray
\nof sky
\nand river in the rain.<\/p>\n
At your house
\nthe key sits on a dusty beam,
\nthe kettle steeps with tea.
\nCoals in the stove stoked
\nwith white grain alder
\nuprooted in another winter,
\ndried to perfection
\nin a blazing summer sun.
\nQuiet taps of heat expanding glowing flames
\nagainst dark red walls
\nburn deeply into blackness of the night.
\nClothes peeled,
\ntwo more blankets piled on my side
\nburrowed down with steaming mug and book
\ninto soft gold light.<\/p>\n
I dissolve into the echo of the rain upon the roof.<\/p>\n
By what unlikely stroke of grace
\ndoes this define a life?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Friday Night” previously appeared in At First Light<\/em> (Gazoobi Tales Publishing, 2011).<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Mary Eliza Crane<\/a> is a native New Englander, transplanted to the western slope of the Cascade foothills east of Duvall. She weaves together the personal, political and natural world. A regular feature at poetry venues in the Puget Sound region, she has two volumes of poetry, What I Can Hold In My Hands,\u00a0<\/em><\/a>and At First Light<\/em>,<\/a>\u00a0both published by Gazoobi Tales.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" FRIDAY NIGHT With a flash of light an eagle splits the seamless gray of sky and river in the rain. At your house the key sits on a dusty beam, the kettle steeps with tea. Coals in the stove … Continue reading