Autumn Sky Poetry . . . Number 8 . . .


The curiosity of a child

new to the world is musical.

Notes are composed

with images from a world

kept in our back pockets:

shadows on a suburban

lamppost, clouds casting off

their uniforms over shorn

fields. These are tossed

like unwanted Polaroids,

ready for the daily sacrifice

of dust and dark. To prepare

ourselves for becoming human

we must unlock each song,

connect it to our cities of flesh

and bone. And be still, be still.

by Christian Ward

© 2007 Christian Ward