AN HOUR
by William M. Peaster
Upon a great mountain’s summit,
silent words were spoken to my heart:
do not hear
let the sky spread against you
let one year pass westward in the span
of an hour;
see the dots of fire in the valleys flowering
see the world that is a morning dream
sing the song
your grandmother sang when
you were young—
[You can find "An Hour" and 150 similar poems in my recently published volume of poems, Phantastikon].