December 2015
Robert Walton
dragonlemontree@sbcglobal.net
dragonlemontree@sbcglobal.net
I taught at San Lorenzo Middle School in King City, California for thirty-six years before retiring in June of 2006. Phyllis, my wife of 42 years, and I still reside in King City. I am a life-long rock-climber and mountaineer. I've made numerous ascents in the Sierra Nevada and Yosemite, though my home crags are in Pinnacles National Monument. Many of my climbing stories have been published over the years. One, Three's a Crowd, was produced as a radio play and broadcast on KUSF in 2006 and later made it onto PBS.
I'm an experienced Fantasy and SF writer. My novella Vienna Station won the Galaxy prize and was published as an e-book. It is available for Kindle on Amazon. I co-wrote The Man Who Murdered Mozart with Barry Malzberg a few years back. My fantasy novel Chaos Gate was published in 2011. You may have run across my Joel in Tananar, too. Most recently, Moonlight Mesa Associates published my Young Adult historical novel Dawn Drums. Please visit my website at: http://chaosgatebook.wordpress.com/
I'm an experienced Fantasy and SF writer. My novella Vienna Station won the Galaxy prize and was published as an e-book. It is available for Kindle on Amazon. I co-wrote The Man Who Murdered Mozart with Barry Malzberg a few years back. My fantasy novel Chaos Gate was published in 2011. You may have run across my Joel in Tananar, too. Most recently, Moonlight Mesa Associates published my Young Adult historical novel Dawn Drums. Please visit my website at: http://chaosgatebook.wordpress.com/
Sister Carmela’s Passing
Deep within the funeral night,
I wait beside an empty doorway
Beneath a windblown light.
Votary candles burning bright —
I cup my hands to hold the glow
Deep within the funeral night.
Enduring all without respite —
Bedpans, needles, strangers’ hands —
Beneath a windblown light.
Mary full of grace, Mary’s rites —
Citronella candles glowing
Deep within the funeral night.
Wind’s wild wings give shadows flight —
Spinning, driving, slanting raindrops,
Beneath a windblown light.
No pledge of life or coming dawn,
No whispered prayer or fading song,
Deep within the funeral night,
Beneath this swaying windblown light.
©2015 Robert Walton