Never Held Like the Ground and Sky

Instilled in the treatment of childhood,
laughing in the willows with friends.
Hot loaves of bread eaten beneath leaf piles;
the comforting cocooning into ice tunnels.


The quartet revolved around the circumstance.

But, behind doors closed, secrets were kept.

Beside a coat leg, testing with the glance of an eye.

An arms length of incredulity,
unable to truly hold it.



In the sky, a solivagant seagull.

The magic pushed in.
Push pin, and memory of a bloodied finger.


Scraping the batter to a crescent moon.

Patter in the pattern returning to the yard
to lay in the grass that held me like the sky.



-Sonja J. Johnston © 08-Jan-2016