~ Kris Korman

the Cold moon rose
over the frozen ridge
freakishly large
icy white
lighting the
royal blue sky
and snow covered mountains

the sun was setting
provocatively
wearing silky clouds
sensuously draped
across its pulsing surface
coloring the horizon
gold and pink and violet

the swelling moon howling
from the left
the singing sun shimmering
from the right
our silence
grounding us
on the twisty road
we drove between them

~ CD Williams

When we were young I’d sit with you in some candle lit restaurant—
     in intimate, connecting conversation—
     and I’d glance over at an old couple eating in silence.

“Not me,” I’d think
     in the arrogance of my youth.
“Not me,” I’d think
     in my hunger to know every cranny and inch of yourself.
“Not me,” I’d think
     in my need to share my every thought, test my every opinion.
“Not me.”

Silly me.

‘Cause you know, half a century later
I sit in some eatery with you—not caring if it’s romantic—
    not wanting to share opinions and already knowing anyway.
    not wanting to talk of the world,
        or the kids,
            or the house,
                or the bad times or the good.

How wonderful it is to sit in the quiet—
        no dishes to do,
            no banging furnace pipes
                no half completed chores wanting finishing.

How wonderful to sit with you swallowed
by the holy silence of just being.
Together.

~Julia H. Fonte

Death had woven its shades of raven
into her quilts of life. A nurse,
she knew what to expect, graciously
partnering with me for her care.

Gray-green eyes, deep like quarry
lakes, speckled blue under gilded rays;
and though she was content enough,
they held a touch of resignation.

During rare moments she would share
about working in a nursing home
all those years—opening windows
for souls of the dying.

I left hospice, returning to visit
on a cold but radiant day.
Her bed, now tucked under a window
within a cozy first-floor alcove,

was like a garden of quilted pastels
without a bit of black.
The sun’s magic turned her eyes
as blue as cornflowers that day,

and they glistened as she leaned in
close to confide she was ready,
whispering with a knowing smile,
“I’m waiting for my sister to visit.

That night, I’ll leave the window open.
Just a crack.”