Even This Far / Joshua Alan Sturgill
I made a nest of my hands
to hold the tiny body
and we waited.
Two bare trees
standing in the wet cold of a fallow field: its legs
so vulnerable, rigid,
reaching out from its damp feathers
as the succession of winters passed.
And the Sun assumed
a watchful routine overhead
and the Moon winked down at us a million times
very slowly.
Not much longer, I whispered, the King’s rule
extends even this far. Aren’t you yourself
the promised boundary stone?
Nothing falls apart
from Him
All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2024 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.
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