Untitled Times


I soak in a pool of lamplight
in my chair by a window
fire blazes on the hearth
outside the snow sparkles
diamonds animated
by the full moon
all is still
time to read the Bible

When I open to the last book
wind begins to blow around the house
suddenly fire in the grate
is not enough
the full moon of early morning
still stretches shadows on the silver snow
shadows through the window
across my warm carpet less fire-lit
yet her beams don robes more sinister

My porch wind chimes play a frantic
Asian air
angels fly across the page
sounding trumpets
a third of the earth dies
a third of the skies
are darkened
the sea turns to blood

locusts with the sting of scorpions
in their tails torment
all not forehead-sealed
with the mark of God

Overhead
in the yet-black early morning sky
the setting moon larger grows
turning red

After a second look
a sip of coffee with a prayer
comforted
I close the book
my daily bread



By C. Van Gorkom