Bianca Eddings

We were robbed, dear
A computer robbed us
It stole our story
I went to the library 
And I saw it on the shelf

Somedays I’d rather be working 9 to 5
I’d rather I get up and go
But things are different right now
And I gotta do what I gotta do

These days I ought to be thankful
I have something to get up and do
Cause things are different right now
And somedays I am working

Hmm
You all know it.
I wish I could say
“I had nothing”
Hmm

Hmm
Don’t write that bit.
Don’t waste the day.
No rhythmic ring.
Hmm

Hmm
I will let it sit.
Let the song play.
Let the tears sing.
Hmm

It’s here!
Boy, did it come fast.
Out under the sun
And around it for twenty-five years;
A whole quarter century.

A Snap!
Oh, there are changes about.
Dancing on the floor
And bounding across it in antalgic gait;
A swish with confidence.

Oh dear!
Oof, that was a mistake.
Wallowing in pits
And grieving moments of the road behind
A dose of folly.

Oh well!
Welp, got to move on.
Here above the dirt
And amongst those whose hearts beat;
A bouncy grown woman

I came back late and tired last night
  Into my little room,
To the long chair and the firelight
  And comfortable gloom.

But as I entered softly in
  I saw a woman there,
The line of neck and cheek and chin,
  The darkness of her hair,
The form of one I did not know
  Sitting in my chair.

I stood a moment fierce and still,
  Watching her neck and hair.
I made a step to her; and saw
  That there was no one there.

It was some trick of the firelight
  That made me see her there.
It was a chance of shade and light
  And the cushion in the chair.

Oh, all you happy over the earth,
  That night, how could I sleep?
I lay and watched the lonely gloom;
  And watched the moonlight creep
From wall to basin, round the room.
  All night I could not sleep.

She shines 
A darker shade of light she is  
But beneath what she shows  
Is a soft and light caress  
Of a life that has lived alone in the sky  
With a tender and loving gaze  
That is beyond the human eye

Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day
I paused and said, "I will turn back from here.
No, I will go on farther—-and we shall see."
The hard snow held me, save where now and then
One foot went through. The view was all in lines
Straight up and down of tall slim trees
Too much alike to mark or name a place by
So as to say for certain I was here
Or somewhere else: I was just far from home.
A small bird flew before me. He was careful
To put a tree between us when he lighted,
And say no word to tell me who he was
Who was so foolish as to think what he thought.
He thought that I was after him for a feather—-
The white one in his tail; like one who takes
Everything said as personal to himself.
One flight out sideways would have undeceived him.
And then there was a pile of wood for which
I forgot him and let his little fear
Carry him off the way I might have gone,
Without so much as wishing him good-night.
He went behind it to make his last stand.
It was a cord of maple, cut and split
And piled—-and measured, four by four by eight.
And not another like it could I see.
No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it.
And it was older sure than this year's cutting,
Or even last year's or the year's before.
The wood was gray and the bark warping off it
And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis
Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.
What held it though on one side was a tree
Still growing, and on one a stake and prop,
These latter about to fall. I thought that only
Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks
Could so forget his handiwork on which
He spent himself, the labour of his axe,
And leave it there far from a useful fireplace
To warm the frozen swamp as best it could
With the slow smokeless burning of decay.

A Love in the Sky

The sun kissed the moon
The moon sang a goodnight tune
The sun rose at the dawn of day
The moon dutifully hid behind the ray
The sun grew weary and wanted to rest
The moon came out as the sun sank west
The dawn came ; the sun kissed the moon
The moon again sang a goodnight tune
                                            
                                        Alison Johnstone