when
 the apple skin 
is fit enough for breaking
there will be
just as you said-
 pomp and merrymaking  

I'll weave a cozy nest for us
 beside a faery dell
and sing the song of stardust 
 on a lute of kitten's paw shell

but when the apple tree is dead,
 though the taste of fruit may linger,
it will be just as I said-
 Unenviable December

the song will chill among bows,
 seldom will be heard the music-
we'll know the place like wedding vows
 broken for our own amusement

  in the autumn, all is woven-
   nests and throaty strings

  in the winter forest
    no birds sing



                    -Brian Bigley

I took my love to Talby Faire
And there, the world seemed right
  To cut the chill that knit the air
  She clothed herself in white

Her gown, appearing linen
A silken symphony to touch
  Although the night was bleeding out
  In us there was no rush

My jacket was a tattered swatch
Some dead man's wife's donation
  Acquired many years ago
  When I was not so cold and thin

Her perfume made a different muse
At the neck and at the wrist-
  I'm sorry but I'd rather there be rope
  On both, with scent betwixt

And as the night, that pale blue mage
Worked magic over Talby Strait
  I wandered toward the bannered stage
  The bone white moon had made

And on the wood, three skeletons
All gentlemen, prepared,
  Took to the task of violins
  And music made they there

And in that din I lost her-
She's a stranger now to me
  I'm left to bow my violin
  And wail to Talby's eaves

I took my love to Talby Faire
We hardly knew each other then- 
  Strange music that the moon allowed
  Has made us strangers once again


                                     - Brian Bigley