Rick Jackofsky
Broke Down Palace
A bucket, placed under a hole in the roof, fills . . . with moonlight.
It seems like a dream when I try to recall those cold winter nights when it was my grandparents’ turn to host the neighborhood dance party. The kids were tasked with rolling up the tattered rugs while the men carried the furniture out of the house and onto the lawn. By the time the moon rose over the treetops, the old house would be filled with dancers spinning and stomping to the sounds of a fretless banjo and an old-time fiddle. The musicians played through the night, breaking only long enough to sample the potluck supper and sip a little whiskey as we passed the hat and listened to Grandpa tell one of his tall tales.
accompanied by rattling windows and the wind whistling through the rafters we dance 'til dawn
About the Author
Rick Jackofsky, poet, songwriter, and paterfamilias of The Homegrown String Band, enjoys reading, writing, and sharing captured moments of clarity. His haiku, senryu, tanka, and haibun have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies.