Chase Twichell

It was as if a window suddenly blew open
and the sky outside the mind came flooding in.
My childhood shriveled to a close,

just like that, thread of smoke
that rose and touched a cloud - or the cloud’s

replica adrift on the slow river of thinking -
and disappeared inside it. In that dark water,
a new lily was opening, sky- white out of the muck.

It was only a glimpse, quick,
like a bird ruffling,

but I saw the flower’s
beautiful stark shape, an artichoke
brightened from within by the moon.

A path lay shadowy under my feet,
and I followed it.