She rises from a limpid pool.
Silvery beads cling to flesh
Clothing her in brilliant shimmer.

Lovely shining tresses spiral
Down over slim shoulders
Framing her beautiful face.

Eyes of moon silver, lips of rose
Grace her fair visage.

And I ...

I can do naught, caught as I am
in the dazzling light of her rising.

She made her last voyage.
Rode the waves across the seas.
Delivered her cargo, then set sail
As proud as always.

Until the dark seas grasped
Her hull and sundered it.
Spilling death into her safe harbor.

Tossing her time and time again
Against jagged rocks without reason.
Until sounding a mournful cry
She sank into the depths.

Her crew lost, as was her captain.

And now decades later, her
Broken rusted bow washes ashore.
Surfacing once more, a fine ship
Tortured by the sea gods.

Even the torn edges of metal
and pervasive rust unable
to disguise her proud lines.

I was 'bout a haf mile down Shadow Holler, lookin' for my dog Jack.  I rounded the bend long the river and thar he sat just lookin' up at the moon that was back dropped behind him.  I was so entranced I stood stockstill in the chill evening air.  He raised his head and let out with that beautiful soulful baying only a huntin' dog can make.
Then he took off tearing through the woods like his tail was on fire.

Well, I commenced chasin' ol' Jack down, but I swear evra tree in that holler was out to get me.
My clothes, they was ripped up and my feet were on fire from being torn by briars and such.
I finally, upped and caught up to Jack.  He was pacing the bottom of a Sycamore that was glowing white in the moonlight.  I heard some cacklin' up in that tree and I looked up to see a sight that I nev'r saw afore.  They was a **** up in there just grinnin' down at Jack like he was playing with him.  Now Jack was in a right tizzy over that ****.  He leaped up the side of the tree as high as he could, barking treed as though his life depended on it.  That **** was doing a bit of glowing in the moonlight itself.  I'd never seen a Cinnamon colored **** before, but thar 'e was, bigger 'an life.  And while it was grinnin' it was busy collecting some twigs.  Next thing ya know it was chattering to beat the band and throwin' sticks at ol' Jack.  Well, I can tell you, Jack didn't appreciate the humor in this sitcheation.  He backed up and made a leap so high I thought shore he was gonna take flight, but he got nothin' for his trouble but a whack in the head as he collided with a big ol' twig thrown by that ****.  

Thinkin' that Jack had had about enuf I tried coaxing him home, but he was havin' nothing to do with it.  So, I told Jack I was heading home and he could come if he had a mind to, but I wasn't staying out in the woods all night while he made an *** of himself over a **** that was makin' fun of him.  I started off and then heard a loud yelp.  All of a sudden Jack came blastin' past me, and not far behind was that old Cinnamon **** giving it all he was worth.  Well, as he was headin' towards home I followed along.  Just at the mouth of Shadow Holler, and not to fer from home I found ol' Jack.  He was up a low slung tree whimperin' like a puppy.  That **** was pacing the trunk, back ****** up, teeth bared and laughin' out the side of its mouth.  As I walked up on this pathetic scene, ol' Jack took one look at me and started crying fer help.  Well, I took pity on the poor fella and walked up on that **** with a right big stick.  And right afore my eyes it just faded into nothin'.  Scared the bejeebers outta me!

Took me an hour to coax ol' Jack outta that tree.  And then I couldn't keep up with him once he headed towards our cabin.  At home I told Pa all about our lil adventure, and he bout whooped me fer even goin' into Shadow Holler.  He said, "Son, I tole you to stay outta that holla.  They's ghosts and spooks down in thar.  Old Lady Jalson disappeared never to be seen again until the Smith boys saw her wanderin' a trail down there.  On'y problem is they cud see through 'er.  They's all sorts of stories 'bout shadows roaming free and playin' tricks an' worse on folks."  

Well I never seen my Pa so scairt as when he was tellin' me that, so now I just keep away from that holler.  And, ya know what?  I ain't never seen ol' Jack even turn in that direction since that night.  Musta learned himself somethin'.

Wildly reeling in the arms of Death.
Moving to the pounding rhythm.
Eyes closed against his emaciated visage.
Heart thudding beat for beat.

Death seeks the living tonight.
Her heart's rhythm aches in his bones.
Her vitality bruises his being.
Her zeal, a wound to his bravado.

And though Death dances
wantonly and with desire,
Warmth and Love
eternally elude him.

Aged patina of ivory keys.

Chipped at the corners.
Black and white worn.

Still, as always,
able to coax beautiful notes
From willing keys.

To lighten the mood
or heighten suspense.
Notes tumbling one after another.

Each key, a single note.
When enchanted
able to suspend reality
in concert with its kinsman.

Feathers flutter.

Opaque to morning light.
Spread full to land
on open fingertips.

The barest suggestion of
nature's design
in the form,
the flutter,
the timid acceptance.

Life indeed is fragile
and awesome,
in its truest sense.