Lionel Train Under the Tree

artwork: ralph murre

Lionel Train Under the Tree

 by Robert Walton

My dog's tail,

Like an old brown rope,

Lay across the rails.

I caught my brother's eye.

He shrugged and grinned;

It was worth a try.

Sparks flashed blue.

Full speed ahead!

Owooooooooooo

Old Blondie sprang free,

Eyes like railway tunnels,

Through our Christmas tree.

Ornaments fell like colored snow.

Our Mother screamed, "What happened?"

We don't know.

~ previously appeared on Your Daily Poem

Venom

artwork: ralph murre

Venom

by Robert Walton

The rattlesnake's severed head rested

Like a spent bullet

Against

My grandfather's boot.

Desert dust

Coated that boot

With years of layers,

None from a trail. 

He nudged the head,

Tipped it with his toe

Until the fangs pointed up.

I shivered,

But I liked those fangs.

Children respect

Clear intentions

And nothing's as pure as

Venom. 

~ first published at Fictionique 

Flames,

photo: ed haskell

by Robert Walton

Flames,

Flickering, flaring

Between black pines'

Sawtooth shadows

Drew me.

Firelight,

Always brightest

After midnight,

Filled an empty circle,

For no faces

Leaned in,

No smiles shimmered

Like glass ornaments.

Stars,

Not eyes,

Gleamed upon a last

Sapphire breath

Of embers.

Only silence,

Deep as mountains,

Huddled close. 

~ previously in Song of the San Joaquin Journal

Dawn Snow

photo: jon walton

Dawn Snow

by Robert Walton

A long gown falling

From ridgeline shoulders,

Brushes branches

Jeweled with ice.

Deer steps beneath pines

Tremble

At the edge of silence.

Light blooms

On cliffs above,

Not orange,

Not gold,

But offering a new day,

More than the sum

Of its parts. 

~ first published in Avocet