by Elizabeth Rees



OUT OUR WINDOW four loons
weave through rippling sun   

to reach the opposite shore.
There, pine trees grip rocks

upholding the ledge, so new trees
can sprout, sometimes from stone.

 All is right in the sharp hum
of cicadas, lap of lake

against red canoe, the sky
holding blue to its word.

One diffuse cloud whispers
over unfurled crooks of oak.

The horizon does not listen,                   
splinters skyward and on.

Elizabeth Rees

ELIZABETH REES'  poetry has appeared in such journals as AGNI, Kenyon Review, and The Southern Review.  In addition to four award-winning chapbooks, her first collection, Every Root a Branch, was published in 2014. 



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