The River Courses
The river courses, its currents speed
as it carves the land; pushes against the mud,
the long grasses bending over the dark deep
light blue-brown.
Her grandmother creaks the rungs
of her rocking chair,
her shawled shape is molded earth colors
like the river and its banks,
both passing time quietly, alone.
The rain changes the sky
outside her window; it becomes Dove-grey.
The clouds are wrapped together,
sunlight cushioned, they are bandages
with the light like blood seeping
until the empyrian is completely covered,
and clots- Venus, Mars and Jupitor, perhaps-
behind the outer layer of the celestial sphere
in a sea of wedding-white.
The full moon is veiled
within the cottony gauziness,
it shines in the violent heavens.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2021
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