Pan
I had lunch today with Pan.
–A birthday party;
he comes each year,
to eat oats and honey.
–Life’s nectar,
and to tell me that all is okay, all right, blessed.
Though reassuring, I don’t believe his devilish lies.
“It could be better,” I say.
He takes a sip of orange tea.
–Nibbles a tidbit of raisin bread toast with strawberry jam.
“There are special ones who feel deeply, but lose joy,” he says.
‘They are the most vulnerable,” I add thoughtfully as I take a scolding tone,
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Is there any other way?” he asks.
The sun is at sky’s peak and we laugh.
photo courtesy of Blake Webster
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SEP
2015
SEP
2015
About the Author:
Elaine Webster writes fiction, creative non-fiction, essays and poetry from her studio in Las Cruces, New Mexico—in the heart of the Land of Enchantment. “It’s easy to be creative surrounded by the beauty of Southern New Mexico. We have the best of everything—food, art, culture, music and sense of community.”