
Searching for Truth in the Morning
Jake Skeets
in the east a corn field wrinkles with memory of quiet snow
passing ice and hail silk cattle white
beyond the sunflower threaded fence
a hilltop of morning
dews the burst line of pinion and big sage
in the cloud place a sky just opened in low blue
: never just blue
drawn out by cicada and brome harp and hummingbird
the truth around here is dark moss damp warm
beneath squash bugs holding light on their backs