We had laid the keys to be cut
three times before the bolt turned.
In the deafening hours, we kept trying.
In the yard, beneath the clothesline
a collection of things, brought by birds:
a sewing needle, a sprig of thyme
a plain moment in expansive sky
opened its mouth to the hills, spread divine
to the elbow of the island, the verdant southwest.
On the Cliffside, fresh rain
or from waves crashing, spray,
where each breath was grace and rapture.
Jim Davis is a graduate of Knox College and now lives, writes, and paints in Chicago, where he edits the North Chicago Review. Jim’s work has appeared in Seneca Review, Blue Mesa Review, Poetry Quarterly, Whitefish Review, The Café Review, and Contemporary American Voices, in addition to winning the Line Zero Poetry Contest, Eye on Life Poetry Prize, multiple Editor's Choice awards, Runner-Up for Best Modern Poem by Chicago’s Journal of Modern Poetry, and a recent Best of the Net nomination.