At the end of the pasture, blackness sits in a velvet crouch, its cape spread, arms open to the midnight sky. When this happens, the night creature begins its stir, first in a drift of stars, then in a cud of dream, chewing its long voyage across an arc of space. Its slow churn has no memory of earth, sky, water, air or fire. Its soundless drift is circle upon circle turning, entered or entering endlessly in whorls of silence. Unlike the night creature, I awakened to a husk of day, fox bark and cricket's song tuning in my throat. Copyright © Scott Chisholm. http://www.unl.edu/schooner/psmain.htm @3Prairie Schooner@1 is a literary quarterly published since 1927 which publishes original stories, poetry, essays, and reviews. Regularly cited in the prize journals, the magazine is considered one of the most prestigious of the campus-based literary journals. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES ON CARMEN SYLVA by EMMA LAZARUS WEDDING BED IN MANGKUTANA by KAREN SWENSON THE LAND O' THE LEAL by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE TO MRS. FRANCES-ARABELLA KELLY by MARY BARBER BEFORE VICKSBURG by GEORGE HENRY BOKER |