Poem of the Month

Mountain Lake in Fall

Is it any wonder

that when sheep drink

out of these geese waters

they dream of flying

over this mountain lake

guarded by stalks of corn

posing in green sunlight.

Like drunken sailors

we trolled

the circled dirt path

like satellites spinning

to an end and then

she ran across the short grass

and plunged naked

amongst the feather flapping

and sunken white bellies,

the suspicious eyes

and nervous beaks

garbling out mouthfuls

of sheep lullabies.

How I wish

I could have grown wings

and hugged her

with the shaggy warmth

of darkness.

Steven Pelcman

Blueline magazine Potsdam State University of New York  2015