Trace the Edges


Please read and enjoy the work of a talented writer.

TANYA CLIFF

I lie in the grass
like I did as a child
and look up to the sky
trace my fingers along the edges of the clouds drifting by –

a ship with tall sails
cuts through the deep blue

a girl dances
in a billowing skirt

a hippopotamus sticks its head out of the river,
its mouth gaping,
or is it the mouth of a crocodile
lurking under the surface of the Nile

the egrets on the bank don’t look worried
they will grab their meals
and then take flight

there,
the canopy of a forest

there,
the mountain peaks

there,
a strange system of planets
in an alternate universe

there,
the little stone I skipped in the pond yesterday,
it went farther than I thought it could possibly go

like my dreams
of childhood and today,
soaring – these clouds –
stories I long to tell

to be seen…

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