A Sign on Moonless
Air by Karen
Kelsay

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She
pleaded for a sign—A silent snow,
a winter moan, a
solitary sigh, placed inside
the turbid ebb and flow of
pensive hours.

A long discourse from viewless wings
that half
endear the absence of the light, an instant’s
grace,
before the agony of night. A meager sign—

to
end the restless dream without a shadow
of mischance, when
morning makes its rounds
all wrapped in silk and damask
gowns.

She wants a harbinger, or herald from
above,
to gather blossoms dropped from twigs
and give
her sips from acorn cups,

a love knot twisted in her
hair, a wild azalea
with the spring and sparrows sitting
on the eave,
enfolded in a melancholy dream of moonless
air—
or, just a breath of anything.

Karen
Kelsay, who grew up in Southern California, writes
poetry
about nature and loves the sea. Her first
book,Collected
Poems,
was published in June of 2008. She
enjoys writing formal and free verse poetry. Her poems
have appeared in The
Christian Science Monitor, Westward
Quarterly,Soundzine,
and several other magazines. She is also author
of a chapbook, “A Fist of Roots,” by Puddinghouse
Press. Visit
her website at www.karenkelsay.com.