rows of owls roost in their hair
secretly, I know that the trees are artists
they paint the air with fluttering brushes
scalloped and veiny
fingers so slowly tracing the clouds
who swing close to dust
in sprawls of fog and rain fairies
bless this ground
aspen and pine soak in it
tiny mouths rooted in the dew
mud and puddles
windows into the sky
where the roses' souls catch
napes and necks
in amber
melted petals

our feet tread on cautious shadows
fleeting swan feathers, running through shallow voices
fire my love, inside your spirit
bridle it and ride over the crescent
of moon, arched in perfect tension
a taught bow string; trembling silver fire
waiting for the quiver
hidden in the angel's hand
filled to overflowing with restless arrows
tumbling through the raven nights

small yellow bloom
swaying between the dawn and mist of dusk
her legs dance through the grass and pebbled bays
lichen clings to the trees,  security in the ebb and flow
of the silver oyster moon’s face,
beaming, full-cheeked for now
but so very fickle tomorrow
when the storm breathes russet
and lightning splits the sky into violet mountain peaks

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life’s stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God’s thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron
Water like a stone.
Snow had fallen,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain,
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign.
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed,
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay.
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and *** and camel,
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air.
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part.
Yet what I can I give Him?
Give my heart.