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Katherine Soniat Solstices |
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There were hemlocks for the rain-green valley, clubs of insects meteoring the
lake, and blue eaves under every bush
of sunshine. How exact the summer light was. Beyond that, a woman walked out on another cold year. Like a pane of ice held to sundown, she disappeared from the window, then from the town. Into the hours came the children shuffling home through shadow until one looked back and began the orphan call. Darkness rises, sometimes the sun falls. A man snaps wildflower heads by the tracks for a living. Our lucky old sun turns on us and rolls far north of heaven
certain days. Night’s a bonepress. But think how the skull loved to cock in the daylight, the eyes dream openly. Some dream alone, away from the sing-song ways of
the world. First up the lake tower on solstice eve, a woman calls for the children. Far beyond our tropic of this or that, polar baths overflow with sunshine, then pitch. |
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Arts & Letters is supported by |
Arts & Letters Journal of Contemporary Culture Campus Box 89 Georgia College & State University Milledgeville, GA
31061 Phone: (478) 445-1289 E-mail: al@gcsu.edu
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GC&SU is a member of |
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