Jeanne Shannon




season of rain and honeysuckle      thyme and fox grapes defined the
air      watery shadows flowed over the hills      she thought of laburnum
trees in england     of a novel by barbara pym     she wandered through
eudora welty’s house, touched the keys of her typewriter      she
listened to agatha christie explain why she disappeared on a winter
night, why she took the name of her husband’s mistress

where once the air had been filled with incense, a bowl of blue
hyacinths was in flower    a lost moon was dragging the pearl river
a man sat reading the golden apples      the candle guttered and
regained its flame      moonlight fell on hayfields in georgia      rain fell
on the mulberry river      on the veranda at tara, scarlett was wearing a
dress of sprigged muslin

in the square garden, red roses pulsed into flower       red rose, ruby,
the long-wave extreme of the visible spectrum
      restless, the
cowbirds flew from tree to tree      the cows mooed in the meadow,
the horses whinnied      color has something to do with music      every
sound has a color      every word       agatha is pink       a horse’s
whinny is yellow       but scarlett is not scarlet       if this is a mystery so
be it

in morgana, rain fell on the chinaberry trees      eudora is the color of
mulberries      virgie rainey, danke schoen

       January 14, 2021