Poetry mag 7-8_2017-front-cover-740

My school’s second marking period is just about over. Final grades are due on Wednesday and I’ve been knee deep, hip deep, shoulder deep in essays, research papers, vocabulary quizzes, etc.


Needing a break, a reprieve, here’s a short, short piece, a poem, a blip. Writing, even for a moment, helps me relax.



If I slept,
I’d sleep here,
in the shadow
over the old fence,
where squirrels scuttle
atop the dull pickets,
the soft wood reaching
above the soil,
as dark as dreams,
as black as silence.


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