Indigo Nights
Three poems stepping under starry skies
Step into the indigo night with us. Shadows will drape over your shoulders like a silk sheet, liquid. Listen to mercy: the unmaking of the day.
Moonless
by Ray Smith
With all that is in it -
the live oak in the dimness
pours itself into the dark sheets of night
that close around the deeper corners of habit.
I will remember, or at least I will not forget -
yes, yes, it is the way the light rests on the leaves,
but in a small unsettling. It is not the light
that joins and becomes, like the light
that feels its way into the face of a tulip.
This is polar, it is water on oil.
The light slips in droplets,
pooling on the pavement beneath.
About the author: Ray Smith is a young poet from Crowley, Texas, whose work explores the intersections of faith, philosophy, and art. Inspired by Mary Oliver, Ted Kooser, and Wendell Berry, his poetry attempts to do justice to the divine in the mundane. At the moment, he is actively refining his craft, seeking to build a voice with the same depth and resonance as the poets he admires, while also attempting to grow as a poet and a person one rejection letter at a time.
a kind of emptiness by Eliza Coco Hold me in the space between silhouettes, where the sky isn't yet black.
About the author: Eliza Coco is a fourth-generation inhabitant of Ōtautahi. Poetry is her primary coping mechanism to balance life’s calculation content, which can get off-kilter during her day job as an engineer. She generally writes about God, grief, and nature. Eliza believes that life comprises a series of pictures - she writes to piece them together. She shares her work frequently at local events as well as regularly posting on Substack.
Night Poem
by Laura Kauffman
a response to “Morning Poem” by Mary Oliver
Every night
the world
is unmade.
Under the white
rain of the moon,
the woven
nests of daytime
turn to sticks again
and scatter themselves across the yard —
the mowed lawns sprout
with moonflower vines
and the softly winking stars
of evening primrose.
If it is in your power
to be quiet
you will melt down into the earth,
to its silent caves, cold and damp,
where you’ll join again
with Eden clay.
And if your soul wearies
of saying prayers
louder than thunder —
if it’s all you can do
to whisper God’s name —
there is still
somewhere high above you
a heaven complete, needing
nothing from your tongue.
Each rising moon
is a faith given and received
easily
every night
whether or not
you dared to be quiet,
whether or not
you ever spoke His name.
About the author: Laura Kauffman, MA, is a spiritual director and writer whose work explores the presence of God in everyday life. She has published three collections of poetry that examines the holy edge of ordinary things, and her book on spiritual direction (The Meeting Place: Quiet Spiritual Practices for Dwelling With God in Prayer, Baker Books) will be released in August 2026. Laura lives with her family in the Midwest, where she’s completing a doctorate in The Sacred Art of Writing (thanks to her supportive family, strong coffee, and wall of bookshelves). You can learn more about her work on her website, www.laurakauffman.com.
On your way out…
We have an exciting opportunity for visual artists to be a part of a limited edition zine to be distributed at the Cultivate Conference with The Way Back To Ourselves. Find the details below!
Cheers,
The Clayjar Masthead
Dang. Beautiful work. Loved Eliza's.
These are so good!