Beyond the Witching Hour

Beyond the witching hour,
thoughts lengthen tonight,
as they join the wind

The trees sway with springs first buds
darkness is heavy here
this side of the earth

I wonder about the spirits
pressing hard against the night
fingers grasping at the veil

their shouts but a whisper
just beyond the hearing

I listen
as my lover sleeps on

F.E. Feeley Jr
This is an older poem
3-22-2015
edited by C. Atmar

Michigan Winters (A poem)

I remember the winters, and the snow late at night
with the world set ablaze from the moon’s silver light
I remember the stillness, the quiet, akin to death
flying heavenward, always upward, the heat from my breath

I remember how time always seemed to me,
suspended like ice cycles on the bows of fir trees
teardrops on maples, void of their leaves
limbs frozen over, as if laid barren by thieves.

I remember walking, those long wintery roads
yet unmarked by tire treads, or other folks I’d known
My feet would crunch and kick and I’d slide
I’d laugh as I stumbled risking my pride.

Oh, I didn’t’ care. There was no one but me
alive in the world, at least as far as I could see
the only tracks left behind me were mine,
no one watching, no one telling, no reason to lie

So when the stumble came, I’d let it come I’d roll in the snow.
I’d laugh, I’d curse,
it’s hard under there, you know.
There was no pride and no mission
No place I had to be. It was just the winter,
empty streets, my boyhood, and me.

Alone, not alone
5/12/2015