Prose Header


by Mary Brunini McArdle

A shallow dip at the horizon
Reveals exactly where
An atmospheric whirlpool
Has sucked under an unwitting
Dull, red globe.

Deep blue-violet shafts shoot out
From behind a leafless tree;
There are enough stark branches
To make the tree look full and round.

Between each dark shaft are
Others of pale blue,
Vestiges of the sky
So recently defeated.
At the horizon, shades of peach
Testify to the prior presence
Of the absent sun;

The symmetry is perfect;
An artist could not have found
A better color wheel.
The shafts straight and flawless
Like a highway in the sky.

Color wheel or highway?
No, a vortex,
Strong and dynamic,
Pulling the eye down,
Below the shadowed rim of Earth.

Will the tree withstand
Its almost certain fate?

Copyright © 2009 by Mary Brunini McArdle

Home Page