Today's poem is by Robert Morgan
In those days they grew sweet potatoes
big as newborn babies, and discovered
the power of clouds in boilers.
T he spring said its diamonds under the poplars
and the spine twinkled like a milkyway.
Children shouted kickball and tag
from early evening until dark in the pas ture.
I like to think they found in work
a soil subliminal and sublime.
T heir bes t conspiracies were two
breathing in the night. They lived
on the upland atoll and didn't care
to step on horizons. And left no more
trace than a cloud shadow when I woke
from the coils of the cell's heart,
in the non-euclidean mountains,
recovering pieces of the morgenland.
Copyright © 2014 Robert Morgan All rights reserved
from At the Edge of the Orchard Country
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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