A Break of Blue Sky Between the Sycamores Belongs to Me
By Barrett Mohrmann
                                  
A break of blue sky between the sycamores
belongs to me. I do not own it, of course,
but I know where it resides, like a secret tree hollow
meant for gifts and letters.
                                  
I lie atop a river rock jeweled
red, green, and pink with dragonflies, as the
sky filters down through the canopy like
an azure column.
                                  
The water belongs to the boys, swimming
beneath the waterfall, the lichen cushioning
their steps as they run, summer air drying their
bronzed, bird-sharp shoulders.
                                 
Sunlight pours gold along the ridge as
my sky darkens rosy and purple as a bruise.
The first pale kisses of starlight
brush the earth.
                                  
A break of blue sky between the sycamores
belongs to me.

About the Author
Barrett Mohrmann’s poetry has appeared in Wilderness House Literary Review, Ariel Chart, and Umbrella Factory Magazine. He studied English at the College of William & Mary where he was a finalist for the Glenwood A. Clark Fiction Prize. Barrett also worked for several years as a reporter with The News & Advance in Lynchburg, Va.