< Issue 4 >
Shades of Black
by Janet Scott McDaniel
Night sky whispers its greeting,
the muted caws of crows that sit
upon the house’s broken gingerbread
waiting
I see dark.
Through silver ribbons of moonlight
a raven flies, circling slowly
its wise black eyes watching the shadowy figure
distorted by a broken glass windowpane
You can’t see dark.
Slowly walking
bare feet leaving silent footprints
through soot lying upon cold ebony floors.
Fingers trace the length of jet beads
held by a small gold clasp, centuries old.
A lover’s eye
captured in watercolor upon ivory
coal black hair and a single gray eye
finely painted, it lies under glass.
A lover’s tryst
captured not in ink upon the page,
nor breathless passion of intertwined bodies
but with a brush with a single hair.
I see lighter shades
of dark.
often proudly worn - this secret devotion;
eye’s identity known only to the wearer.
A love story - now lost to the ages
yet words are over-rated
and unnecessary
when you gaze
into the window to the soul.
Shades of Black
by Janet Scott McDaniel
Night sky whispers its greeting,
the muted caws of crows that sit
upon the house’s broken gingerbread
waiting
I see dark.
Through silver ribbons of moonlight
a raven flies, circling slowly
its wise black eyes watching the shadowy figure
distorted by a broken glass windowpane
You can’t see dark.
Slowly walking
bare feet leaving silent footprints
through soot lying upon cold ebony floors.
Fingers trace the length of jet beads
held by a small gold clasp, centuries old.
A lover’s eye
captured in watercolor upon ivory
coal black hair and a single gray eye
finely painted, it lies under glass.
A lover’s tryst
captured not in ink upon the page,
nor breathless passion of intertwined bodies
but with a brush with a single hair.
I see lighter shades
of dark.
often proudly worn - this secret devotion;
eye’s identity known only to the wearer.
A love story - now lost to the ages
yet words are over-rated
and unnecessary
when you gaze
into the window to the soul.
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