Bill Galvin Poems

A bright, clear and cold night…
The near full moon setting low in the winter sky,
Illuminating the bare tree branches;
Casting ghostlike shadows on the snow;
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The wandering gusts of winter wind
Repeat and follow and reply
And flow over the tops of the forest
Of this dark night's bare branches,
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Does this feel good or what?

Good to be back in these Acadian hills,
Touching these granite rocks once again…
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A slow turn of her head away from me,
Her eyes gazing at nothing in particular.
She turns back and with a brave face says,
'This may be something really bad.'
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To Our Unparted Spirits…

Do you remember those first few years?
Every day was so bright and new?
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A cute little chickadee
Flits to my back deck here,
As I sit, quietly sipping a beer.
She pecks at tiny, seedy morsels I can’t even see;
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The sight of the dawn light peering through the trees of our back lot;
The chirps of the chickadees yearning for spring outside our windows;
The appearance of first buds poking their way to the sun;
The freshening aromas of our flowers and grasses as they reawaken.
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My love, my wife…
Home now for so many months…
Laboring with a slowly diminishing Life-force
Since insidious ALS began its treacherous scheme
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Each night I climb the stairs to our bedroom.
En route, I pass by the room you left this world from.
I pause and say “Good night, Honey Pie; sweet dreams.”
Just like in real life, before you got so sick.
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"I don't go out anymore, " she said, matter-of-factly,
When quizzed by the new boys on the other side of the bar.
She's got the look; got that well put-together appeal…
They just had to ask.
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