Flying Out of New York at Sunset

by A. Jonathan Vance

A painted skyline wades

In pools of shimmering orange.

Only towers of steel and glass

And the sun’s residue

Remain for contemplation.

Not the filth,

Not the cold,

Not the regret.

Seen from afar,

It’s covered miraculously

By the grace of God,

And you feel a quiet awe

For the glory of it all.

The Love of Light by Niel Hayes

Distorted Room by Danielle Salmon