June 2023
Bio Note: I resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign intelligence and international sales. There've been four hundred fifty stories and poems published so far, and seven books. I work the other side of writing at Bewildering Stories, where I manage a posse of eight review editors, and as lead editor at The Scribes Micro Fiction magazine.
On Naps
A high up boss of mine, who didn’t much like me. used to say that naps kept him smart and healthy. Then he died of cancer. Despite this negative result I find that naps are necessary, not for smarts or spunk, those are beyond me, just for metamorphism from sluggish to active, a cocoon I can creep into and reemerge butterflyish
Visitations
My son arrived just now, his son in tow. Our meetings are too few to keep abreast of how our lives have shifted tone and flow and how we had to change as we were stressed. The love still shared was born with traits now faux yet it abides in changeling sympathy. Our differences are gulches set below the bridging skeins of trust and empathy. For there’s no judgement shown by we who know we cannot let the facts malform the true, its basking warmth enabling us to glow in spite of lives that wandered off askew.
Immolation
I burn the droppings of trees and the sawed down cadavers from their accidental deaths, not so much for their heat as for the beauty of their pyre and the aroma of their growth given off from their death, hoping they can be pleased with my reverent tribute.
©2023 Ed Ahern
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL