We touched the sky
and asked for more, ever more.
The river bed fanned and spread,
coursing out toward the sea,
spewing twirling leaves and wine,
stretching time, our feet sinking
in the sand, slowing motion,
minutes in a circle, seconds
riding thermals, our thoughts
internalized, doubled with
What of our time on earth and
with whom we choose to spend it?
He drew rocks upon the rocks,
moving them to suit his art,
a garden amidst our sandy beach,
glaciated mountain touching sky,
verdant forest standing watch,
we cavorted, children at heart,
spilling sand through our fingertips
like the span of time together.
by Sally Hewitt (USA)
Plainsongs, Winter 2018