Field Guide to Stillness
Charlotte Matthews
There is a steep hill and clover
thick as lamb’s ear, as leather bellows
splayed to rouse fire embers.
And there is a boy lying motionless
at the hill’s crest waiting
for the right moment to roll
unencumbered to the meadow
which parallels the creek.
In his mind the knowing
of what it is to fly.
In his mind such longing.
Nightfall. Daybreak.
But this particular boy
will let himself go
so he can rest
near the water-invisible
smell of sassafras close
in the air, so he can think
of the imaginary bridge
he keeps on drawing,
of his picture of the wind.
© 2007 University of North Carolina Greensboro