Where Old Fliers Come to Roost
Ancient Eagle Press
We’re moving! After a long search, we found our piece of paradise. The floors have now been refinished and the last rooms have been cut in, primed for their final coat of paint. There will be a few renovations in the future, but nothing that will stop us from settling in. I’ve enjoyed the skylight above the AEP editor’s desk these past two years, but am happily trading it for a library and an office with windows overlooking the lake. While loading the closets with cameras, inventory and current projects I have noticed eagles, osprey, herons, deer and foxes near the water’s edge. They lend a tranquility to the place that will either inspire me or lull me into somnambulance. Meanwhile, I’ve given the house to the painters but have launched the kayak and have begun to explore the lake. For the August Poem of the Month, then, I offer a draft from my first excursion on the lake, Pelham.
Poem of the Month
July 2017 -- Siena
June 2017 -- Loyal, Straight, and True
May 2017 -- A Thousand Flowers
April 2017 -- Oboe Rap
March 2017 - March Madness
February 2017 -- The Cost of Doing Business
January 2017 -- Reflection at a Winter Window
December 2016 -- The Creation
November 2016 -- Hemolymph Moon
October 2016 -- Vortex
September 2016 -- Do You?
Each month Ancient Eagle Press offers a poem appropriate to the season or the mood of our editorial staff. Poems may be new or drawn from existing AEP editions.
Dusk puts its spine against the light,
Backing day into the horizon.
From the stillness of the lake I know I should go,
But here I feel the peace of you and hold a little longer.
I paddle to the chorus of frogs,
Along the reed bed toward home;
Dragonflies dance, soft sparks of fading sunlight,
The sparkle of your eyes, always fresh in my mind.
The boat is old, its hull scarred and faded,
Too many rocky shores and days in the sun,
But sturdy for it all, with enough heart to get us home.
We’ve been good together, a lifetime on the water,
With only a few regrets: when doing the right thing
Was wrong, and left the deepest scars.
But dusk keeps pushing, leaving no time for return or regret,
There is still light enough to enjoy
The pendant and the marsh lily,
The heron and the eagle,
The sunset and the memories of you.
L. Alloway // 2017