It bumps against the window,
staggered and ecstatic
to bring the news: The heavens
cup the earth, and now
the world is small, and quiet,
as a breath. The cat
blinks and wonders. Tell me,
friend, the rain is not
a gift but a cold fact,
and I will take your word
in my hand and skip it
over my wet heart.
* * * * *
CREATION
My eight-year-old Liana
is drawing a picture, bold
Crayola strokes, an apple tree
aswirl. In the center
of its foliage, there is an opening.
Light pours out. The artist
cannot tell you why.
It is a mystery,
and she is an artist.
The blobby clouds, blobby birds
and sun are swimming towards the hole.
The sky is a sea of blue,
and the sea is swimming too.
In what? It is a mystery,
and she is an artist.
~ Mark Jackley is a business writer in the Washington, DC, area. His poems have appeared in various journals and his chapbook, "Brevities," is forthcoming from Ginninderra Press.
No comments:
Post a Comment