We believe the world is round. We believe that

When a ship sails out of sight, it keeps on sailing

Without falling off the edge of the planet, along

With the ocean waters ever pouring past the edge,

The world’s meniscus. We believe the astronauts

Who saw the Earth from far, far away, a round

Blue marble spinning in space. We believe even

Though we will never see it for ourselves,

Not with our ordinary eyes. There are many such

Things in the world. Sometimes it takes a distortion,

A lens like the eye of a fish, born to see through murky

Water, to understand the realness of strange truths.

Stand on a fire tower two hundred feet in the air.

Look out on the world like a bird or a god of poetry:

Pick up your camera and find a way to show us

An orange golden forest curving away at the edges

Of our eyes, and in the distance–what is that?

Mountains melting into a sea of navy or teal or

The darkness that beckons dusk to inhale

These curving clouds, pulling them away so that

The golden hour can have a few more minutes

Here, caressing this forest the way fire might

But without destruction, only love. If we blink,

The clouds might pour down over the edges of day.