Liquid Mirror: Waiting on the New Moon
By Michael Skinner
Slipping past the pyramid in Memphis at dawn.
Moving toward the full moon as the quiet dark waters of the Mississippi rush underneath my wheels.
Early morning.
At sunrise, the water is smooth as glass.
A jet airplane rises through the morning air.
Morning purple as a crushed rose.
The river as calm as glass.
Quiet as sleep.
The sky and her twin, the river, run toward the horizon.
Where the river touches the sky, she blushes and the dawn comes.
For More poems by this author:
- Liquid Mirror: Waiting On the New Moon