Against the white siding
branches cull a voice from the night;
the wind is mute without them.
On the way to work
I watch a leaf shake from a tree,
leave its place, fall where the breeze sweeps it.
Late in bed I wake from a dream
of children sprinting through
a sprinkler-- their speckled laughter
warms the room like candles
in an age of no power.
All at once I feel like a stone
on the shore where he first spurned his gods,
as I struggle to say: Yes, heaven is nothing without us.
William Neumire has work forthcoming in The Wisconsin Review, California Quarterly, and Redactions. He has published one chapbook titled Between Worlds (Foothills Publishing; www.foothillspublishing.com ). A second chapbook, Need for the Missing, is scheduled to be released soon by Pudding House Press.
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