by  Karen B Call

 

Brush grew up around the sculpture that was taller than any man, 

blocking the view of it from far away. Maybe that was the Master’s plan.

 

Critters dashed about, fighting for spots,

but some worked together. As if the vibrations from the 

sculpture calmed their stress, relaxed them.

 

Why didn’t it work with people? He stood and watched Paz meander

up the hill just like he did every twilight. 

Snow didn’t stay on it. Funny, he thought. He wanted to see

the lavender light from the beams through

 

light snow, but it didn’t happen. Maybe if I were here the moment

the snow fell I could see.  He turned the spotlight on, red, to alert them.

He turned and from his spot at the top of the hill he saw figures

moving toward the barn. The doctor and her nurse were there tonight 

to bring life to those who did not want the babies nestled in their bellies.