Even Between the Lines
Before sunrise I walk our drive’s way
toward a lane of lines which unwind
their electric wend between high
wooden poles flanking either side
of our road. From the ground, steel
wires entwine, luring me from a scape
of navy twilight, its last dance
with the dimming moon
to the long loom of black thread
that as I near, shifts and drifts
up and down in rhythm with my step,
a charged weave stealing my gaze
from the sky’s stillness,
where it rests on sunset’s
pillowed illusion
that evenings are forever
and stars still shine above
the uncrossed lines of a lit horizon.
Yet this morning, my step halts
before the rife cords, and I find
power’s taut lines loosed
and realigned as musical staff—
the glint of stars fixed as chords
of a dawning refrain—a holy stave
of space and line that sounds
the heavens at break of day.
Lee Kiblinger is a Texas teacher and poet who loves to travel with her husband, laugh with three adulting children, and play mahjong. Her first collection, All the Untils, was published by Wipf and Stock in 2025. More of her work can be found in The Windhover, Clayjar Review, Penwood Review, Ekstasis, Solum Journal, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, Calla Press, and others. Read her poetry at www.ripplesoflaughter.com.
