Wine and wind chimes

Tonight the air
smells of desert sage.
I sit in the porch
beyond the street light's reach

moving only my hand
from my lap
to my lips
carrying the wine glass.

Ghostly as thoughts sifting
through a tired brain
my neighbor's collection of wind chimes
sways in the dark --

jangle of brass clink of glass
hollow bong of copper tubes
clack of bamboo
rippling through the night
like voices in a dream.

The wine slides across my tongue
burns down my throat
into a cough

the edges of shadows
shimmer.

A man passes
under the street lamp
chimes floating around him.
He doesn't know it
but from his long hair
braided in a leather thong
a memory escapes.


Serena Fusek
Newport News, VA

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