Sanctuary

Feb 7, 2026 · by Natasha Rogers

Contest Honorable Mention

Here in this wooded clearing, I search for stones,
white ones, pushed from the earth round,
washed and polished by rain, by wind.
I circle them end-to-end,
their flat faces hidden from heaven. Heavy,
they will hold this offering.

In the bower above me, green leaves lick the sunlit air
with elemental hunger. Slowly they pull light into themselves
and form a record I can number concentrically
as I wedge off dried bark and crumble it
over a slow uncertain fire. It grows
as I crisscross rough logs
flames can wrap around and dance along.

They burn quickly — the days and months and years
the sun drops,
and my shadow dances with borrowed light
and elemental hunger.

Christine Ferguson Bird is a grandmother and great-grandmother who finds pure poetry when she is with children. Book Rec: Everything Sad is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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