(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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