Great writing.

Simple sweet.

Untitled 

Athena Kildegaard 

We drove across high prairie,

the Mississippi behind us,

nothing ahead for miles

but sky,

a loamy sky, thick enough

to put a trowel into,

but off to the south

clouds pulled

away from one another

as if to stand back

take a long look,

and in that

space what light was left

of the sun

already gone below

the horizon

flowed up and held there

and we did too hold

our breaths at the sudden

beauty.