Our Little Piece of Sky.

Shaffer, Eric Paul

Our Little Piece of Sky

   We drove our little piece of sky home and parked it in front
   of the house. Blue as the day is long, that little piece of sky
   shone at the curb beyond the brilliant emerald of the berm.

   If a road is a river, our little piece of sky was a raft launched
   for travel on a massive, mud-muscled surge between clouds
   and the current. Wind rocked our little piece of sky, and rain

   illuminated the curves. Our little piece of sky burned beneath
   the sun, silvered in the moon, and sparked among the stars.

   If there were a valley and a bay to reflect on, our little piece
   of sky was a mirror and a mind made to reverse the vista.
   If there was a forest, our little piece of sky hummed among

   the crowns and limbs and leaves. If there were mountains,
   our little piece of sky edified pinnacles and peaks. Aimless

   aboard our little piece of sky, we allowed the flow to bear
   us resolute in the direction we knew the future lay, no regrets
   at a constant southerly compass, no reverence for the great

   wheels on vessels toiling upriver toward the inexplicable,
   and no fear for the imminent delta, or for the sudden gulf,
   or for the broken, breaking sea that overcomes all that comes.