Monday Poem

—Thoughts of 77 summer solstices,
hopefully anticipating 78

At a Point When All Things Reverse

situated between a pair of equinoxes
a blazing solstice— an apex of angles
and ellipses; parabolas scribed by
inertia and mass in a count of months
governed by curves of gravity
at a point when all things reverse
I sweat beneath a star so close
the joist slung across my shoulder
as I stride over dry earth to a nascent house
is as warm to my touch by its radiation
as the thought of you beneath my hand

Jim Culleny

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