Nov/Dec 2015 • Vol. XXXVII No. 6 Poetry |

The First Year

1 The new parents rose to throw stone after stone into the pond. The moonlight barely touched them. The surface erupted with sound every time it was breached. All those stones planted in that pressurized dark at the bottom of the pond, the temperature dropping, the water beginning to ice. When the first stone hit and didn't sink, they stopped their throwing to observe the stone still with them in the silent air.   2 Meanwhile, indiscernible, the water was drainingthrough a buried system of pipes. They tossed their stones onto the ice; each skittered to an unreachable place. That long winter, the ice covered with stones kept lowering—until at last it rested on the mud and the stones they'd thrown those months ago. Then the sun began to rise, and the ice began to melt, and it was spring.

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Colony Collapse

By John Witte

1 The new parents rose to throw stone after stone into the pond. The moonlight barely touched them. The surface erupted with sound every time it was breached. All those […]

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