The loon cry arrows clear
over the lake—easy, unbeckoned,
a freshness brushing your cheekbone,
finding the apple,
low lilt of the yellowthroat loosens, lessens
in layers across waters yet you hear
my voice. A nearby cardinal invokes the past.
The slate blue tone of the abbey bell speaks over
the woven warble and slowly
the turmoil within you slackens, eddies into present.
Walleye & otter & frog & turtle & you, adrift
on the dawn’s reflection. I call you
from beyond the trill & the glint & the loam, beyond
the broken branches of birch, yet not
beyond your sounding—I am the hidden deep daring
you, my love, to dive.
by Laura Reece Hogan
Laura Reece Hogan is the author of Butterfly Nebula (Backwaters, University of Nebraska Press), winner of the Backwaters Prize in Poetry, Litany of Flights (Paraclete Press), winner of the Paraclete Poetry Prize, the chapbook O Garden-Dweller (Finishing Line), and the nonfiction work I Live, No Longer I (Wipf & Stock).
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