The cold open space of a light blue

Vow poem I

Running a bookshop is not a lucrative career choice, but the absence of major financial gains belies the fact that it is a deeply viable line of work. As paid subscribers, each of you really bolsters me in this, and I am grateful for that.

Since poetry is the root of my vocation, I thought that sharing an original poem now and again might be a way to consecrate my gratitude for your support. Here is the first. — Joe

Utagawa Hiroshige I, Cherry Blossoms (source)

The cold open
space of a light blue
morning in spring—

do you hear?
The birdsong like seeds shivering
in the flesh

of unborn berries,
the air made of sugar
and tin. Something

big is breathing
in the small of my
heart—a cricket

the size of
the moon. How close the
light, how soon.