“. . .but the hedgehog knows one big thing.” —Archilochus
Wide open, each flower a purple mountain top,
softly folded or sharply creased, that erupts
abruptly upon a plain of tangled leaves. Sunlight
becomes part of that green dance of summer.
Summer becomes a long majestic morning
and morning, a part of that endless landscape.
And, as if for the first time, wide open.
The entire sky stretches above the meadow
a dome of translucent blue with the sun
and sleepy clouds tumbling east to west. Crows,
wings always open to the transparent
breeze, ease into view, as if for the first
time. But, ah, which coneflower to choose?
Deborah H. Doolittle calls North Carolina home. An AWP Intro Award winner and Pushcart Prize nominee, she is the author of Floribunda, No Crazy Notions, That Echo, and Bogbound. When not writing or reading or editing BRILLIG: a micro lit mag, she’s training for running road races, or practicing yoga.
