Colorado Midnight
by Brian Clifton
We were the sound through the trees,
we were a creek, skirting the night.
Little flames, I could sing the hymns
of leaves. A glass flute led the melody.
Our teeth grinned endless grins, glinting
like the eyelets of our shoes. We waded
across the water in echoes, in ripples.
The minnows caught the moon:
the fading light of stars in the morning,
the glow of embers under ash. The fish
always escaped our grasp. Their eyes
were hidden by water masks.
From:
unpublishedCopyright ©:
Brian Clifton |
About bmclftn
Biography
Brian Clifton lives in Omaha, NE, where he writes and works. His poems can be found in Shadows, ScissorTale Review, The Dirty Napkin, and Plainsong Review.
