John Philip Johnson
for Grace Crowell Slashes of dark reeds cut the silver water to pieces as day yields shadow by shadow. The great blue heron drops its heft to rest, bats rise in the air with sharp, cutting flight, nighthawks call from their bug throats. The loam in shadow yields the string-legged insect song, while a bull frog belches for a while before tossing himself in belly first. The lily pad, now black, undulates; its flower, the yellow asleep in shadow, trembles.
John Philip Johnson lives a quietly subversive life in Lincoln, Nebraska, with his dear wife and five children. He is in the current edition of Rattle, among others, and can be visited on Facebook or at johnphilipjohnson.com.