Good Things that Fall from the Sky
Surely there’s the weather, altogether an airshow
with beams of sun in free fall, a blizzard’s
daredeviling, even the soundtrack of rain,
and there are the space gems and aerial debris,
all those tokens that fall through the atmosphere,
landing with clues to new cosmologies,
and there’s manna, from ages past,
its descent day after day after day as steady
and mysterious as scripture,
and then there’s you, brother, glint-eyed master
of rivers and engines, of wings and gray weather,
now soaring higher than you did before,
and there’s my own skyfall, a shadow inside
that loops and spins over and over, gifting me
flashes of the tilted grin that lit a sky—
that way you had of just wanting to assure
and be reassured: everything will be all right.
Carrie Awbrey’s poetry has appeared in The Formalist, Sequoia: Stanford Literary Magazine, The Sunlight Press, and Lakeside Magazine. She received a BA in English with Creative Writing/Poetry focus from Stanford, where she was awarded the Dorrit Sibley Writing Prize in Poetry. Originally from Washington state, she now lives with her husband in Northern California.
Amethyst Review 