Issue |
 |
January |
|
a poem by Melanie Browne (2 of 2)
holy machines and hummingbirds
As we huddle
over our
holy machines,
we lose
a chance
to swim
in a
cold
river stream
we lose
a chance
to lie down
in the middle of
an open field
point a twig
toward the sky,
direct the clouds
in symphony
over our
holy machines,
a chance
to swim
in a
cold
river stream
a chance
to lie down
in the middle of
an open field
toward the sky,
direct the clouds
in symphony