by Katherine Burnett
The martins surge upward together over the shingled roof of the white sun bleached beach cottage. They swoop close to the gray green waves almost touching the frothy lace of water as it pulses onward towards the shore. Dark shadows against the dimming light, their high pitched calls to one another, are a comfort on summer’s hottest nights. Small black crucifixes dance across a violet sky Then swiftly rush back to rest in their wooden house.
Katherine Burnette published her debut novel Judge’s Waltz in 2021 and won a Pinnacle and a Feathered Quill award. Her poetry has appeared in Flying South, Red Fez and www.vietnamwarpoetry.com. She earned her B.A. and J.D. degrees from Wake Forest University and an MFA degree in Creative Writing at Queens University of Charlotte. She lives in Oxford, North Carolina, where she serves as a state district court judge. Read her previous poems in Deep South here.