Through Such Blue by William R. Stoddart

I ride my bicycle on the slippery stone sidewalk
after a summer rain, past the town doctor

sitting on his front porch reading the newspaper.
I smell the dirty brick street from mist rising

from yellow ingots and think it odd that I remember
this one ride after the rain now that I’m old in comparison

to when my red bicycle took me everywhere I could
dream, from whitewater rivers to steamy jungles,

through a sky so blue that I ache thinking of that silent
glide through a mute town. It’s quiet after the rain.

The dark clouds are followed by white galleons dragging
shadows like weightless anchors. No one speaks to me because

I cannot hear them. I do not remember ever hearing them;
who would stop to listen through such blue?

First appeared in The Adirondack Review (Winter 2014).

William R. Stoddart is a poet and short fiction writer who lives in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His work has appeared in Adirondack Review, Ruminate Magazine, Pedestal Magazine, Every Day Fiction and 34th Parallel.

Why Poetry Matters: Poetry connects the soul to the tenuous illusion of life.