Merak Magazine

Small Gifts

The barometer is dropping, skies filled with scudding clouds Which gather into towers, bottoms dark as funeral shrouds Winds, that once were calm, now cause the flags to stand out straight And whip the water into waves with faces dark…

Sungazing

I lay down on a sun warmed patch of grass upon a hill, And looking up to cloud-flecked blue, it seemed that time stood still. The radiating warmth had wrapped my form in breezeless air, My eyes closed quite unconsciously,…

Choosing

To trade these hands For a house in the forest, landed On a hill above any risk of flood, but near A flowing stream,   To tear off the shingles For an open view, converse with hawks, Whisk out the…