by Philip White
Day
gawks at gist
of night. Under
neath all
trees wet
soil fields of
weed froths of
corn merge into
one evening
green. Stars soonest
flicker days last
glimmer eyes
that are only
hers. Waft of children’s
voices laughter tiny
bells between green
earth and narrowing
sky. What nether
clarity is
this that shakes open
still air draws her
breast to mine cries she
breathes she
breathes she
is safe within my
Universe.
Philip White is a junior majoring in English from Provo, Utah.