At the Empty Homestead
Hoarse call of the loon
Echoes through the veil of moon
Stir the gray images of the tents
Of the gatherers in slumber.
Some chat of the memories,
Of the aunt’s departure,
Of the uncle gone too soon,
Of the dwelling in the flame on
The insane summer night…
Too much for the cattails in the moat
To bear alone, but tonight, everyone
Chases the ghosts in their sleep.
The loon’s call has long ceased.
Couple of stars romance in the tree.
At the moat he mutters monologue,
Comes back to his tent and sobs.
Night deepens with somber remembrance.
Comes golden morning. Hustlers gather,
Followed by convivial chatter.
Laughter echoes in the
Remote homestead–bridge of
kindred spirit sneaks in ones’ heart,
the loon calls in the fog.
©Byung A. Fallgren