Shades of Chicken Little

One uncertain yesterday I glimpsed a

fissure overhead. Watched piece

by piecemeal scrambled scraps of

time come tumbling to the green

edged moldy snow. A pepper   

shake of fine-ground seconds fell,

chased by chunky hours sliding off

a rime-slick roof. Minutes littered the

lawn, skittering like cube-cut wooden

croutons, tossed in a leaf-rot salad.

Day flickered night beneath a bowl

of sky tilting its gray felt hat. And so

since then there's been no when. No matter what.

(A Golden Shovel, after "Haiku Ambulance," by Richard Brautigan)

Maureen Cosgrove is a poet, a collage-artist and a tap dancer from Boston. She has studied poetry with Tom Daley for the past eight years. Her work has appeared in What Rough Beast and Nixes Mate Review. Maureen hosts the monthly Poetry Salon of Boston. She is committed to developing her work, as well as supporting the community of poets in her area.