Big Blue

by Michael Tusa

Standing on the edge of the great shelf 

Quilts and comforters
Bright blue pools of water 
As far as any eye can see

Making dust
Collecting it

Tracing out along the precipice 
Running my fingers down the long white line

Hiding from and being seen
Watching and waiting in hunger 
Ringing and longing with silence 
Riding on and on and on to anywhere now

The great breadth of new dawn rises out from her brown basin 
Black birds begin to call out their claims of victory over the night perched high in their naked branches 

Silken snowflakes waltz warmly down the crystalline stair case far from the towers and belfry and cracked ceiling of sky 
Finally face to face with my maker 
The dance resumes 
But I do not