September Poem

Hole In the Sky

Nothing, or nearly so,

These thin molecules of air,

Water vapor collected

So high it’s crystallized,

The ice of a cirrus cloud

Lit by reflected light

And the slant of evening sun

Rendering this whole blue nothing

Something.

Then the hand, old, instinctively wise,

Darting across toned paper,

The scratch, scratch of a pastel . . .

There! Do you see it?

A hole in the sky!

Sometimes,

If we push hard

Against the skin of the world,

It will give enough

To allow us a moment, nearly nothing,

Maybe, but something,

Even if it’s just a hole in the sky

That calls us to remember,

Then shows us

Why we do what we do.

—Bob Wickless

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