A COLD NIGHT

There were paths in all directions, doors of many houses. We knew our way around mountains; the forests and deserts were no strangers to our feet.

We had scattered, and gathered into baskets, and emptied them more than once.

It was a cold night, a waning gibbous moon, no music anywhere.

We sat at table– Beekeeper, One-Breasted Woman, Poet, Old Maid– and laughed and laughed in the teeth of the darkness, into the mouth of the Beast.

“Oh, there’s no room for Granny in there now,” we said. “Her ears are too big, her eyes are too big, her elbows are sharp as her tongue.”

The wine was gone, the moon was setting when we finally rose to go.

We laughed and waved goodbye. “Keep your eyes open,” we said, “take care of your heart, and remember to keep an ear to the tears in the ground.”