A Morning’s Apology

This morning, the backyard is a soft white plain,

snow laid down in perfect silence,

sparkling as though someone had shattered

the stars, scattered them carelessly

across the world. The sky, empty now, its shoulders

unburdened, leans down tenderly— an apology

in the language of light. And the sun tosses

handfuls of brilliance as if to say: look, look

what remains. The wood thrush begins

a gentle song, threading its music through

the quiet. The air, still and calm, holds

the weight of what was and the promise

of what will be. And I stand here,

listening,

as though peace had always lived

just on the other side of this dark.


Sam Aureli is a design and construction professional living in Boston, MA. He looks forward to the weekend, watching birds feed in the backyard, and finding inspiration in the quiet moments. His poems have appeared, or are forthcoming, in Atlanta Review, Sidhe Press, Underscore Magazine, and Prosetrics The Magazine, among other literary journals.

Sam Aureli

Sam Aureli is a design and construction professional living in Boston, MA. He looks forward to the weekend, watching birds feed in the backyard, and finding inspiration in the quiet moments. His poems have appeared, or are forthcoming, in Atlanta Review, Sidhe Press, Underscore Magazine, Prosetrics The Magazine, among other literary journals.

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I heard your feelings