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(a Mayberrie poem)

.

Once a week

she braves the village,

trades her woven scarves

for bread and cheese,

and candle sticks.

She offers just a veiled smile

and searches every face;

she dare not speak

of things she shouldn’t know.

 .

At dusk she climbs the deer path

to her cottage on the hill

and there she lights

one candle stick.

As wisps of smoke

slide up the wall

like lovers twined

she gazes at the flame and sees

the battle-weary men at rest,

tending to their fire.

And in the shadowed edge there stands 

a single silhouette.

 .

He turns her way

as though he feels her near

and as he does

she reaches through

the waxen light

and hangs her heart

around his neck.

Then throwing kisses

to the night

she banks the fire

in his eyes

and blows the candle out.

.

©  2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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