AMONG OTHERS
Working alone in the house,
I look to the solitary sculls
passing on the river
for a sense that I am
among others. The geese —
my dogs — convene in the yard
near the water. A summer
in which much has passed
is now folded and put away.
The quiet is like a pie
behind glass, uncut.
– Jessica Hornik
This poem appears in the August 28 print issue of National Review.