A Glimmer by Jason de Koff

The fog’s incandescent glow at full moon,
creates shapeshifters from shadows,
like a blind man, the smells and sounds,
become more effusive than ever.

The drip, drop cadence of the bobbing vessels,
portray the sound of gunshots ricocheting around the harbor,
or perhaps, it is the step of otherworldly beings,
seeking their betrothed from the land of the living.

As shoe leather squeaks on cobblestone,
and the faithful vermin engage in domestic refuse disputes,
a bell tolls in the distance with sentient beatings,
adding to the pulsations fed directly from the heart to the head.

The bell ceases, then resumes with higher pitch each time,
until it becomes the buzzing mosquito,
striking with inimitable audacity,
and annoying the unwilling donor until crushed.

Searching the source,
amid a maze of corridors,
to understand its meaning,
why it exists.

To befuddle the fleet-footed,
send messages to strangers,
capsize the lovers,
at the height of elation?

But the swinging bells stop, ringing no longer,
and the world recovers its gray fogging boredom,
the tread becomes heavier, the mind is a vacuum,
as the trodden resume their way down.

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Jason de Koff is an associate professor of agronomy and soil science at Tennessee State University.  He lives in Nashville, TN with his wife, Jaclyn, and his two daughters, Tegan and Maizie.  He has published in a number of scientific journals, and recently has had poetry accepted in other literary journals for the first time.