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.