After the security guards
kicked me off campus for staying late,
I sat in the parking lot a while
staring at snow drifts, breathing in dusk.
Blues, whites, and dappled grays
brushed across the horizon like watercolor
above a field of dead, yellow grass.
The cold chilled my arms, and suddenly
I wasn’t in Colorado, but on a windy beach in California
under the same blues and grays, the day you asked me
if I thought you were affectionate enough with her.
Only a child, I could think of no answer for you then
my heart untested, the fires of my hearth not yet dimmed
by heartbreak or by the darkness of persistent doubt.
If you were to ask me now, with so many years flown by
I don’t know that I would have a wiser answer
but I could tell you that beneath this
sky tonight there are several runners
clad all in black, swift and focused
who don’t look to pause or lift their heads
as the sun dips down slowly behind the mountain,
painting the edges of all the trees a dazzling, orange shade of pink.
Hayley Stoddard lives in Colorado, and is currently pursuing a Bachelor's degree. She began writing at a young age, and has been inspired by such writers as Billy Collins, John Keats, Emily Dickinson, William Wordsworth, Anne Lamott, Mary Oliver, and Leonard Cohen. Her work has been seen in or is upcoming in several publications, including Parley Publishing, Oberon, After the Pause, Eris+Eros, Sad Girls Club Lit, Beyond Words Magazine, and Eunoia Review.