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.

Ancient Eagle Press

                                                  Night Watch

  The world keeps thrumming, thrumming, thrumming
  As it wobbles like a home-made dirndl
  Spinning, if not eternally, at least through my eternity;

  Like a transformer thrumming, thrumming, thrumming

  As it chews giant bites from the grid
  And chums the power line with digestible pieces;

  Like water over a weir thrumming, thrumming, thrumming  
  With springtime rains leaving the pond,
  Accelerating, growing, tumbling along its way;

  Like the river thrumming, thrumming, thrumming
  Its belly swollen with snow pack, loess and dreams
  Ceaseless from mountain to valley to sea;

  Like the wind thrumming, thrumming, thrumming
  Through mountain passes, racing across the plain
  Moving forward, moving forever;

  Like the respirator thrumming, thrumming, thrumming 
  Pumping life into my father’s lungs
  Until the moment that I age, not by an hour, but by a generation.

  Lee Alloway

  Adapted from Swatting Gnats,  2012

October 2017

Summer went out fighting with a late September heat wave, but Fall is clearly in charge as we enter October.  Today’s cool, dry weather makes the sticky heat of summer a fast fading memory, and good riddance!  Thus begins a glorious transition in the shadow of the Blue Ridge mountains.  The maples have already begun to redden, soon to be joined by color cascading from the peaks into the valley.  The animals are feasting on the last of summer’s bounty, adding fat to support the coming migration or the winter that is sure to follow.  But this beauty and bounty are transient.   Soon the leaves will fall, our castle walls of green will be bare and harsh winds will blow through.  Fall is a creshendo in nature’s symphony, but beneath the music the seasons pass to a persistent thrumming.  It is a sound young people cannot hear, but becomes louder as we hear less.  It is a whisper reminding us that we, too, are transient.   We cannot stop the changing of the seasons, cannot stop the thrumming of the earth, cannot stop the inevitable passing.  It is a message loudest in the quiet times.   

Poem of the Month


  September 2017 -- The Princess

  August 2017 - Pelham

  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?

  August 2016 -- Sailing
  July 2016 --  Mulberries
  June 2016 -- Off Tucker Point
  May 2016 -- Unforgettable
  April 2016 -- At Night She Cries

Where Old Fliers Come to Roost