From the Plane
It is a soft thing, it has been sifted
from the sieve of space and seems
asleep there under the moths of light.
Cluster of dust and fire, from up here
you are a stranger and I am dropping
through the funnel of air to meet you.
Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2008 by Anne Marie Macari and reprinted from "She Heads into the Wilderness," Autumn House Press, 2008, by permission of Anne Marie Macari.