26 27 this galaxy Jesrein Ayeyi ‘24 to this galaxy i seek each star that i find a childish dream arises something from my younger mind to this galaxy i seek and each planet i set my gaze on a fear of the future is a reasoning song Southern Pines Richard Busby, staff This poem is a reflection of a moment on a visit home to Alabama on a warm early spring day. Three stone steps, with our back to 10 foot ceilings, passing under four columned porch. We walk toward compelling scent of maturing pine, on a carpet of brown long needle straw. Pine sap scent sweet to the senses sticky to fingers if you dare touch a wounded tree or green cone freshly plucked by wind and gravity from overhead where blue jays squawk. Dogwood blooms in spring forests still recovering from winter. Evergreen pines straight as a spear pointing to air. It’s been a long time… as I have been away… from you, my love. My home. My heart’s desire. My southern woman. Speak to me with slow soothing words dripping with sweetness, like iced-tea nectar. Let’s walk on. up life’s hill to water’s edge and back home to french doors wood floors and wide porch with a swing made from planks milled of local growth and hung with rusty chain links strong, weathered, well loved. Like me. Like you. to this galaxy i seek from the sun to the moon with each obstacle demise i can hear myself reaching that melodious tune to this galaxy i seek past present and future let each hope and pleasantry be a muse for me
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy Mjg3OTMy