Brett Thompson

For this

The Fall by Rolf Aarnot

We have come to a compromise.  Formerly, we thought love was tangible, that the measures of ourselves came only with its attainment.  We are done with supposition.  We have built a campfire, with small dead sticks and dry leaves so we can see it flickering across the darkness. Our family, not yet born, is around it now, singing. I have never told you this: During that one summer, when we lived apart for the first and last time, before a heavy storm I would often go outside and listen for the oaks to rustle with the wind and the first drops of rain. There would be a sudden coolness, and then the rain would come slowly at first, and then all at once the world was pouring again and I would hold out my hands and I would close my eyes, and there is a beginning and an end, there is a beginning and an end.


About the writer:
Brett Thompson has been writing poetry since his graduate days at the University of New Hampshire where he earned a M.A. in English Writing with a concentration in poetry. He has been published in various journals, including Plainsongs, Tilde, District Lit, The Literary Nest, and Peregrine Journal. He teaches and lives in New Hampshire with his wife and two young daughters.

Image: The Fall by Rolf Aamot (1934- ). Digital photopainting. 120 x 180 cm. By 2003. By free license.