Again, we are standing on the shore of an alpine lake.
There is no wind to disturb the pines, or the mountains
upside down on the surface of the water. We are waiting
for something, but I can’t be sure. From the other side
of the lake, a cardinal flies across the water toward us.
I turn and watch it come to rest among the needles
behind you. I look at you and open my mouth to speak.
Something stops me. You are staring across the water.
The sky is cloudless. It is colder than I remember.
Suddenly I realize why we’ve come here.
137 The Paris-American
Matt Morton was a 2013 Finalist for a Ruth Lilly Fellowship and a 2013 Finalist in Narrative’s 30 Below Contest. His poems appear or are forthcoming in 32 Poems, Colorado Review, The Cincinnati Review, New Ohio Review, and Hayden’s Ferry Review, among others. Originally from Rockwall, Texas, he currently lives and teaches in Baltimore, where he is an Owen Scholars Fellow at the Johns Hopkins University Writing Seminars. (www.mattmortonpoetry.com)
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