Mountains rise beyond the glass
green gives way to gray
I try to catch a rolling nap
a panorama passing by
A frozen lake, a wedding cake
an icy crust on cobbled streets
icicles on stone-cold eaves
each falling star, a waxy flake
No tale to tell, no epic rhyme
just a slice of rye tonight
this shallow bowl of brine
Just a hush, a quiet hum
another log gone red—
and now, to sleep, O feather bed
Jay Rubin teaches writing at The College of Alameda in the San Francisco Bay Area and publishes Alehouse, an all-poetry literary journal, at www.alehousepress.com. He holds an MFA in Poetry from New England College and lives in San Francisco with his son and Norwich terrier.
Gwendolyn Joyce Mintz is a writer and aspiring photographer. Her work has appeared in various journals, online and print, as well as several anthologies. She blogs about the creative life at http://wwwonewriter.blogspot.com.