Maude Larke, FR

 

 

Free Verse   Winter Dawn   Listen closely. That sound is the silent creeping of gray mist across the world’s black stone ceiling that is winter’s morning light.     Gesture   Solitude       soundlessly               overturns and the silence             like a yearning hand             in darkness reaches to enfold the whispered tresses of a love that is nestled in a dream     Summer Day Suite   I. I went out by the maple to read but was interrupted by the sky and the shout of the valley side wooly with green leaves and damp with shadow the world was a canyon of trees holding a river of clouds and waves of cloudshadows   II. the moon comes turns cloud to blue and shadow to black— bright, making crickets furious, it leaves an afterimage, raising a cowl of cloud and glowing through it like a cyclops   Maude Larke, FR: Psalm for Anger, Sanctity, St. Paul     About Maude Larke, FR   Maude Larke lives in Dijon, France, and has come back to writing after years in the university system, analyzing others’ texts and films. She has also returned to the classical music world as an ardent amateur, after fifteen years of piano and voice in her youth. She has several short stories and poems, two novels, and two screenplays to offer so far. Publications include Bird’s Eye reView, Naugatuck River Review, Oberon, Cyclamens and Swords, riverbabble and Thunderclap!