Cross of Eternity
by Robert Gibbons
He should have been recording this, but making a living takes a lot these days. Blue of the jay circled toward the black of the wrought-iron fence at the same time as the reddest red of the cardinal curved away from the Norwegian spruce, leaving the blur of the cross of eternity, which could never occur again, while lightning later in the day etched it into history, the page of which is filled in in the quiet hour, between three & four in the morning by workman’s hands near exhaustion.