I see evening sunbeams
stealing through the sky’s seams —
I wonder what it means.

Are they the streams
of forgotten cosmic dreams
breaking free
from the atmosphere’s
holy levees?

Or are they the cloud’s reams
of unpublished themes
about nature’s unforeseen extremes?

Here on my hilltop’s mezzanine,
pondering the world’s self-esteem,
I wonder if we live between
the surreal supreme
and the planet’s last scheme.

Editor: Erynn Crittenden