Bill Galvin Poems

A million bright stars…
Ensemble for a waxing
Crescent moondancer.
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Crescent moon grins, smiling down…
On a ballroom floor,
Milady wins in dance town!
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Our minds may draw border lines;
Spirits ebb or wane…
But hearts know no boundaries.
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She sits at a table facing the large windows,
In this brightly lit bookstore café;
Laptop open, she types scholarly for long minutes.
I sit in a low leather chair at a right angle to her,
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Literary floor…
Littered with the empty shells
Of a poet's dreams.
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I needed lifting today.

A cold front then moved in with sudden swift sleet,
And a dark cloud was demarcated at the sharp edge of a blue sky.
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I can talk to her about anything…
This angel on my shoulder.
"Wait, " she may say, "It will pass."
I can ask her for help to see clearly…
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The table is heavy, solid wood; six chairs, two with arms;
Built back in the day when things were meant to last.
It saw nine tough siblings grow up at, under, and on it,
From the fifties through the seventies;
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Upon reaching Timberline,
We best discern change;
On… up… with unbounded range.
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I like to drive from northern cold
In late winter or the early spring,
Down to warmer southern climes,
Where trees are already blossoming.
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