In no rush
to hold up the sky,
we lull the low hills
into folding the afternoon
across the road home.
Later, we’ll collect fog
in the valley below,
but for now I’m working
on floating my hand
on the currents
outside my window.
In no rush
to hold up the sky,
we lull the low hills
into folding the afternoon
across the road home.
Later, we’ll collect fog
in the valley below,
but for now I’m working
on floating my hand
on the currents
outside my window.
This poem was featured on the literary blog for Slice magazine during my time as the blog’s Poet-in-Residence.