james mcgonigal
Poet  •  Critic

Contact  James McGonigal

Click on the poem title to read the next excerpted poem from Cloud Pibroch.

            The Prize

Waking to a soldier’s breakfast
and horses tethered nearby.

Through the night we heard them
pulling at grass, that was feathery here

and of a darkish underwater green.
Clouds across the moon

were fingers tapping a drum.
Mist in sunlight shimmers now

like dragonflies above the lichen on a rock
beside the road we took to reach the prize.