|
If We Spoke Sheep If we spoke Sheep (the language), what might be Flocks' message for us? Maybe sheep would say: Wool fleeces are the goods we trade, in free Exchange, for summer pasture, winter hay, Spring shearing (lest we start to overheat), Protective shelter and the watchful eyes Of shepherds, but we trade no right to eat Kebabs composed of lamb, or mutton pies ... Eye contact for us humans with our sheep Speaks volumes though: the silence of their stare Holds disappointment magnified by deep Emotion, since their bargain's so unfair— Except if we agree to only eat Plant products. That is Sheep's unspoken bleat! (First published in the March 2026 issue of Snakeskin) |
The Caterpillar The caterpillar's multitude of legs Hold up a greedy gut, as soon as all Emerge at once from tiny insect eggs, Completely formed and engineered to crawl All over cabbage leaves to feed the maw They undergird. The larval butterfly Eats constantly on leaves for making slaw, Regrettably for growers. Yet it's why Pupation happens: food a larva pigs Itself on, burgeoning a hundredfold, Lets lepidopterans be flying rigs Launched from a chrysalis ... When you behold A pretty butterfly, you see the fun Result of what a caterpillar's done! (First published in the Spring 2026 issue of WestWard Quarterly) |
Glass Sculpture Glass sculpture's hues of azure, cobalt blue, Light sky blue, lapis lazuli, teal, bice And other shades of blue entice you to Sail over placid seas to paradise, Serenely undisturbed by hints of squalls Seen faintly in far clouds. A shipwrecked mast Cocoons the glass in umber, but recalls Unfinished journeys from a stormy past. Low tide reveals their flotsam: shades of brown— Pecan, bone, russet, tan—are in array To caution you that sailors sometimes drown ... Until time ends, to sail away or stay Remains a tug-of-war between two sides Eternally opposing, like the tides. (First published in the Ekphrastic Review on 17th April, 2026 as a response to Glass Sculpture by Belinda Scott) |