This day was coming at the crossing; brick to brick, a bell tower in the sun's last flames. It was simply, here -- my friend, my good cape, my companion of odd nights of nothing more than whispers. Our shadows did fall into each other like drifts of loosening snow. I withhold nothing. Starlings scatter, and the sun retreats. I withhold nothing, in history's keep.
About the Poet:
Meg Smith is a writer, journalist, dancer, and events producer, living in Lowell, Mass. She served from 1995 to 2009 on the board of Lowell Celebrates Kerouac!, a festival honoring Lowell-born author Jack Kerouac.
Her poetry and fiction have appeared in The Cafe Review,Poetry Bay, Bewildering Stories, Raven Cage, and many more. She is the author of five poetry books. Her short fiction collection, The Plague Confessor, is due out in fall 2020 from Emu Books.
She welcomes visits to megsmithwriter.com.