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The sky’s so thick with gray
not even the faintest shape

of cloud shows through.
Somewhere behind, the planes

drag their wings along
a current of air.

The sun a moment makes
this subtle U of light

in a corner of my view
before taking flight. Angel,

wing, the undefined thing
I thought I saw that wasn’t

really there. Not even the birds think
to close the gap between the pine & yew.

So many voices in the sky
to hold inside my mind – yet yours

is the one I want to hear. The word,
the song as you lean down & touch

the ground, one hand to each shoulder,
head & heart – my heart my

prayer as you come back through the air
& find me waiting there

Photo by Ilyuza Mingazova on Unsplash

Marci Rae Johnson

Marci Rae Johnson works for and is also a freelance editor. Her poems appear in Image, The Christian Century, Main Street Rag, The Collagist, Rhino, Quiddity, Hobart, Redivider, Redactions, The Valparaiso Poetry Review, The Louisville Review, and 32 Poems, among others. Her most recent book, Basic Disaster Supplies Kit, was published by Steel Toe Books.