We perched together, dug in roots that reached but did not intertwine for so long to each other
That the first hint felt like failing, felt like too many trials rushing in,
But they were groundwater quenching parch thirst, clearing the throat for what came:
Brilliant laps of sunshine that didn’t waste themselves turning our leave a brilliant flash shade
Of green-blue crashing off the sky we looked to and dreamed of how to float if only there
Weren’t these tangles that kept us tethered to ground.
But, then, sometimes,
We felt it was good to be just where we were with nothing else
But the memory that we were once so solitary so unringed by oaken time.
And now had a perfect spot to shade each other.
About the Author
Carter Vance is a writer and poet originally from Cobourg, Ontario, Canada currently resident in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. His work has appeared in such publications as The Smart Set, Contemporary Verse 2 and A Midwestern Review, amongst others. He was previously a Harrison Middleton University Ideas Fellow. His latest collection of poems, Places to Be, is currently available from Moonstone Arts Press.