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  • Katie Frieheit

Milky Way

The sun sends its tides our way

Fresh snow gets caught in the current.

All around me it swells

And I am caught in the riptide.


This is what it must be like

434 light years away.

Not cobalt bliss,

But subdued ebony.


The stillness is impressive,

The cold is haunting

And the quiet, perplexing.

But the light - the light is otherworldly.


It leaves red fingerprints on my retina

And lets me enjoy it with closed eyes.

As if its milky magnificence could be forgotten

In the blink of an eye.


All this time I could travel vast distances

By stepping out my door

Just gazing at fresh snow

On a sunny afternoon,

In the Milky Way.



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