The ghost, the pine, the quarter moon
fading. The hay sits like a still life
waiting. Blue surrounds the figure
seated on the hill, wrapped
in sky and earth. The dearth
of crickets rides with dawn.
The sky is teal over auburn hills
over olive grass beneath sandy
hay beneath Buddha within breath.
Out of time means nothing
but time. Space is no-space
within which to let breath
go, swirling to the ends
of the fuzzy image and beyond
to the impartial whiteness
that is the true universe.
Versed in hills and hay yet
outside of them is how we reach
stars without grasping, without gasping
at their enormity.
We can touch the night, we touch
the night, we the night
and sitting outside of it.
by Taunja Thomson
About the Author Taunja Thompson
Taunja Thomson's poetry has been published in The Cincinnati Poetry Review, The Cincinnati Poets’ Collective and, most recently, in The Licking River Review. Additionally, she won the poetry category of Northern Kentucky University’s Women’s Studies Creative Writing Competition in 2003, and her poem “Seahorse and Moon” was nominated for a Pushcart Award in 2005. Taunja currently lives in Kentucky with her husband and four cats and maintains her poetry blog, Beneath Cherry Blossoms.