Edge of Earth

I see edge of earth dipping below
horizon where blue light of morning
filters upward with cloud-cover and birdwing.

I hear cries of little ones stretch each
other thin and scratch through melting
patience of a forgiveness-filled house.

I smell planting season beneath closed
windows where damp earth warms and
waits for everything: rain sun seeds.

I feel grinding heaviness of Winter’s frozen
work resisting its fruition, contracting ever
tighter around its dormancy, afraid.

Tasting afternoon, its creamed coffee,
I plan days to come, savor days behind,
see the edge of earth and soak in now.


  1. Dan Dobson says:

    What is this; a comma-less list?

    Sent from my iPhone


    1. Amy @ Love and Be Loved says:

      Ah, yes. I took out the commas. Since its doubtful readers will hear me read this aloud, I wanted it to read quickly. I could’ve given each word its own line, but then it would’ve skewed the poem visually. I guess I felt artistic license was in order. Thank you for reading!

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