In a Yellow Light


I was dash and go
from the rainy‐day house
for a thing remembered;
fig tree fitting the gap
of fence line.
Return was the breath of being,
separate from my mother’s lap.
in a vessel of light,
angels must have
borne me up—
no utterance of song,
no whoosh of wings
in that circle of quiet.

Sunshine F. Branner lives in Alexandria, Va.

Posted in: Poetry, September 2015: Reproduction and Family Planning


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