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THE IRISH FIDDLER
By Claire Hersom
Uncle Charlie sat in the corner of the farm
shrunken and white, sitting in the wicker rocker—a shawl
thrown over this shoulders.
We’d tiptoe past him, his head bent like a weight hung
on his neck dragging him down to the ground.
The china closet clinking, we’d scurry through the parlor
to the loft stairs; his blue Irish eyes moving separate
from his body, watching us.
Cotton nighties flowered with spring blossoms, little elastic sleeves high
on our shoulders, we’d giggle and peak at him from around the corner, our
bare feet padding back and forth on the pumpkin pine.
When Uncle Charlie died, his old fiddle case sat near the Victrolla.
It was shoved in the corner of the loft, the gut strings—a frayed riot
of confusion, one bridge broken.
But the bow lay there as if ready.
I touched it frail like his face, bent like his shoulders, my fingers
held it poised to begin, it’s graceful balance still quivering.
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The current
Journal in print is
Winter |
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2008 Wolf Moon Desk Calendar
We are pleased to announce that we have put together another snappy desk calendar
featuring work by Maine photographer Clif Graves.
5 1/2" x 5"
2008 Wolf Moon Calendar just
$10.00 each
More Info |
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Some of the fine
stores
where you can find
Wolf Moon JOURNAL
More Info |
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Wolf Moon
Photo Note Cards
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