Smith Falls State Park

From Coffee and Astronomy and other Poems. Morpo Press, 2001.

The sky’s wiped dry
and every star shows,
each buffed to a shine
with clouds, since dropped
in some bucket with the moon.
A river named Niobrara
runs just below my toes, though I hear
more than see it.
Four friends sleep in tents
behind me as I wave my legs
over a river, under a galaxy,
floating on this firmament,
suspended in the middle
of Creation
so much sharper
than daylight’s imitation.

Poem copyright Matt Mason, used here with permission.

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