One Down, Two Across, and Moon Dance

Poetry by Susan Sundwall

One Down, Two Across

Escaping into my crossword
limping from the fray;
I’d rather look at boxes
than deal with you today.

In what way could I change you
by whisper or by shout?
I’d rather figure phrases
than know what you’re about.

So call me weak or lazy,
or call me thick of head,
but when my words you cast aside,
the conversation’s dead.

Moon Dance

October drapes her burnished skirt,
stirred by the errant breeze;
bends down to earth and offers thus
her crimson leathered leaves.

Too soon the crisping winter air
will bare the ancient bones
of starkened limbs that once were dressed
in vibrant greening tones.

And yet once more beneath the moon
all held within her trance,
my aching soul is touched for ‘tis
October’s dying dance.