Best of the Boards
Mona Wanlass

As dawn penetrates
the camouflage of darkness
gray mist rises
from the creek beds of Bull Run,
called to muster
in a stand of maples
shoulder to shoulder against
a backdrop of Union blue.
Snare drums advance
the centenarian collective
on footless march over Henry Hill—
through a perennial spread of wildflowers,
evanescing into early morning dew.
Sentries stand rooted in the wood line,
rusted canons silently hold their ground,
a bugle call reverberates
the tones of history—
over land still fraught in civil war.


Mona, a.k.a. ciquing, can be reached at ciquing1[at] You can also find her on the boards at Song of the JubJub.


Mona Wanlass

parched fine
loess silt
Empty is the well

wind swept
dry stone
Mouth where echoes dwell

pray rain
whet lips
Tend this barren cell

fill pail
sate me
Empty is the well


Mona can be reached at Ciquing1[at]