THE BLUE HOUR
 
journal
new issue
- by anne britting oleson
total read - 689
   

The moment when the exhausted stars,
hanging in the fading sky

by their waning strength,
call out, silently, their last warning:

we stand, you and I, at the edge
of the night field, grasses

whispering at our feet to
the breeze caressing our skin.

No words.  You look upwards,
hands stuffed in pockets,

shoulders hunched.
Somewhere, a lone bird cries

and no one answers.  It is
that moment, the suspension

of time in which
you must decide—forward or back—

that the stars foresaw
all those years ago,

that moment of which they warn,
because somehow, even then, they knew.

 
 
was published in November 2016
 
 
categories
 
Fiction
    Flash Fiction
    Short Story
Non-Fiction
    Essay
    Interview
    Narrative
Poetry
 
 
 
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