Poetry

Ascension: (Psalm 102:7)

—Ryan Romine

I watch the pieces of cloud crumble under the pure blue and am as a sparrow, a dark-eyed darling, wind tossing her flush face against those invisible corners where the air mingles with dust and seed.   Trees stretch toward me, their shadows spread like dark capes in the afternoon heat. At midnight, in the hearth of circumference, their wooden rings help calm the quivering (...)


 

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