CATHY ALLMAN

Meditation Before the Time Changes

Naked branches dangle white sheets
as pretend ghosts. The dog and I walk
through the storm of time change.
Each day we pace our same route,
with different suns. Daylight shortens
as darkness expands. Leaves fall, twirl
and float through the dusk, wobble
to earth, impossible to catch,
when I try to snag one from the path of gust.
The burn of fluorescent, luminous yellow,
orange, and the red-veined oak offers
brilliant color for emptiness. Gutted pumpkins
flame from inside. Plastic bones pose
as skeletons on mailboxes and stone fences.

In from the cold, I wait to answer.
I light logs in the hearth before I open the door
to each ring. My dog barks. The haunters
collect treats I parcel. Some even say, Thank you.
I watch as they run across the street.
Acorns crunch under their shoes.
The night whirls. I hear the whisper
of death and beyond. Tomorrow is All Saints Day.
I will pray to candles, kneel to statues.
Sculpted images know tombstone stillness.
Silence knows the answer to prayer.

Cathy Allman entered the writing field as a reporter after attending the school of Cinema and Television at the University of Southern California. While her career shifted gears from writing to advertising and marketing, She never stopped writing or attending workshops, eventually earning an MFA from Manhattanville College. Allman’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Bluestem Magazine, Cimarron Review, Coachella Review, Drunk Monkeys, Elysian Fields, Moon City Review, Poydras Review, and others.