by Sam Paisley
art by Milanne Berg
From low clouds thunder-torn
Nothing more promised than this
When shallow hills cast mystery hidden by fog
And a canyon of trees reaches up towards the sky from the river banks
There is a cup of coffee left overflowing with rain
At the window where I confide in nothing
Someday comparison would demand I set myself on fire
I'll set myself on fire by standing out in the pouring rain
Thirteen years ago I visited the moon
In search of
Moonwalking solar self-energy
Friends in a field, their shadows running long into the untilled
From a distance
Their silk dresses more beautiful frozen than when they were worn
We all cried out with the sun
As August is the cruelest month when winter is ahead
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