A Sketch of Happiness in Winter
One of those nights where the wind
unbinds the stars from their constellations
and Cassiopeia bends to collect her crown
like a mother on a train
gathering spilled mints back into her tin
and far below I amble through the foothills,
whistling, trying to avoid the patches of poison oak
as I bundle wood for a fire, brushing,
probably, against the red
and jagged leaves.
—Benjamin Gucciardi
—found in THRUSH (November 2020)