Library

It is late in the day, and you are at the town's Grand Library. The storm outside caused a power cut about an hour ago plummeting the library into near darkness. You and a few others helped the librarians light the candles the library keeps for these situations and put them into the old candelabras, wall sconces, and table holders scattered through the three storey building. You finished this task five minutes ago and are now enjoying a deserved break on the library sofas. Lounging on the cushioned leather seat, you admire how the candlelight makes the intricate stonework and sculptures around you more dramatic.

Field Clouds

Blue-roan smudged cloud joins the black one, 

panting to keep up

in the corn-eared field.

They bob and weave through brittle sticks,

Sacrifice

Arms tied to the wooden cross,

chin slumped against his tattered coat.

Withered from the waist down,

a fool in the stocks.

Crows perch on his shoulders,

knock rhythms into his hollow head.

He would shout at them

if he had a voice.