Country Sky
I swear the only thing that makes the city livable
Is the country sky.
All that soundless movement stretched out, glowing,
Blinking like a lighthouse my ship’ll never reach.
Dad throws another block of wood on the fire
And separates the coals for the grill with a shovel.
Does the air weigh less out here?
Feels like it doesn’t rest on my shoulders quite so heavy.
It’s as if that tangled knot of busy thoughts floats up and
Unravels itself into that big old country sky.
Bryan Daniel is from Texas, but has lived in many other places. He appreciates everyone who takes the time to read his poetry.