Knowing this place to be not hurried,
I came for darkness –
for the temporary shading and softening of shadows,
the thought of cold, night air moving in,
its thickness settling and staying
for the duration of sky
or as long as it was needed.
Stories must be told and retold many times.
Forgive me, but this is how I remember.
Words and image by Sarah Rehfeldt. Please do not copy without my permission.
This poem appears in issue #2 of The Whirlwind Review: http://www.writingthewhirlwind.net/