Sky Repair, by Mike Finley

snapped in the moment of a lifetime, and I felt no envy only joy.

My chest hurts, I step outside and walk toward town.

The Zumbro River is frozen over, but I hear water by the bridge.

The falls are tumbling brown from the limestone table, like a greasy comb of water in winter. It is just starting to snow again, and Rachel is there, and takes my arm, and we head home, middle-aged, coughing frost in the silent air.