Dragons in the Gum Tree Grove

The Temblor

Ghost songs play on the harpsichord;
a passing temblor strums the strings
and tumbles chessmen from their board
to roll across the tiles on the floor.
The cicadas have stilled their songs.
I hold my breath, waiting for more
uneasy tremors in the earth.
I grip my chair to keep my place.
You see the terror in my stare.
“It's a little shake, not worth
your worry,” you say.  You touch my face
with tender fingers.  “Help me get
the men picked up.  We can't play chess
with wandering rooks or missing knights.”

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Updated last on:  2001/06/03