The Moons of Mountain Ana III…


Becky’s sulk face is adamant with indignation.

If she only knew how perilous it is to neglect the young.


…Our roles are reversed for the tale

of mum and dad and a kitchen knife,

which Fiona tells in sobs on the stairway.


Something I said has recalled her

feather streaked cheeks of pain.


She laughs

and we go on up

to talk about

a tennis ball

turned inside out…


Becky speaks quietly

but her quiet voice banishes

distance like a shout,

“Josh, come back inside.”


Is this redemption, or merely the wisdom

of being old enough to know better?

One thought on “The Moons of Mountain Ana III…

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