By Bruce Morton
Remember when we were kids
Kneeling bare-kneed on the ground?
We would take a blank sheet of paper,
Lay it flat in the dirt, then hold
A magnifying glass above it, sun
At our backs, we would cast our shadows
Aside so as not to shade the sheet.
Our concentration was out-concentrated
By the power of the sun's rays channeled
Through glass lens onto the paper, its focus
And clarity burning a hole into the paper
Until smolder became fire and fire, poetry.
Bruce Morton divides his time between Montana and Arizona. He is the author of two poetry collections: Planet Mort (2024) and Simple Arithmetic & Other Artifices (2014). A chapbook, Olive-drab Khaki Blues, is forthcoming from FootHills Publishing. His poems have appeared in numerous online and print venues. He was formerly dean at the Montana State University library.
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