by Ellen McHugh
In the Eden-clear and so innocent air,
let the violet sun fall steeple high—
the paint of the night will not
hold in place. Listen— the air
is rising with human
breath. It’s something
akin to faithfulness, the echo
of an evening hymn,
the song already
sweeter than the curved space
between the sound of sweetness
and God’s breath.
Ellen McHugh is a retired nurse and former adjunct instructor of English Composition at Lakeland Community College in Kirtland, Ohio where she also served on the editorial staff of the school’s online literary journal, the Chagrin River Review. She holds an MA in English from Cleveland State University. Several of her poems have appeared in Cleveland State’s Whiskey Island and Litbreak magazines. Currently, Ellen is retired from work but not from life. She enjoys sketching, mulching, helping out in her community, and meeting up once monthly with the Church Ladies. She and her husband of 40 some years have three daughters and three grandchildren—each one, a blessing.
