Michael Johnson Click to

Mike JohnsonMichael Johnson works in a vineyard in Okanagan Falls, Ontario.  His work has appeared in Queen’s Quarterly, The Fiddlehead, Mid-American Review and The Pedestal Magazine.  His poems have also appeared in the Best American and Best Canadian poetry series.


Kindles in the cool grass,
and the night builds hoarfrost
like small cities of glass.

Dawn will spill across
these scattered
shadows leaves of light.

A hummingbird
will sip a bluebell flute
of dew and go on burning.

Grass blade, feather blur,
light, everything —
we are all a kind of fire.

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One Response to Dew

  1. hammerm16 says:

    I love the juxtaposition that you use of the wet dew and the fire. The use of light and the coming sun is really quite beautiful.

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