Who knows what stops the heart of a song
I take note

of tiny thud—
robin in the wheel well of my car

the limp head
of a cat’s prey

sigh of wings
defrocked by power lines

baby starling’s fledgling flight
falling short of a pond’s edge

The slate morsel unearthed
by the tines of my rake

…and the world is vacant for a moment

Grief ***** a womb of air
but how it lives— I cannot say
Upended creature of us

Stops the throbs that herald life

That was then and now is there
As sister Sara pointed out
We were young and stupid
But our ship harbored no care

The oak was new , fresh the smell
We climbed the rigging
of the mast of life
so fast , so well

"Get down you fools"
The old crusted would say
Seasoned in salt from life's
crashing waves and spray

We just laughed and brayed
Almost depraved
"Get lost old fool"
We were so cruel

We weighed our anchor
and dropped our sails
Little we knew
of the seas of Hell

The distant thunder
lightning's warning
It didn't scare us
Life was ours to plunder

But the oak did gray
It bent and buckled
The rigging's rope broke
some of us tumbled

Beaten and battered
We limped into our ports
There was no laughter
from our fellow cohorts

The crossing is done
Sun seasoned in wear
We are the old fools . . .
That was then and now is there

everything of
me was choir-song

every bolt of
air,
every summer
moon,
every drop of
cooling rain,

in spring i
melted like
a hedgerow,
in gold and
sky-bronze,

in summer i
gathered the sky
to my branches
green with shadows
of longing,

in autumn i trembled
downwards like a
girl unwinding her
hair,

and in winter i froze
on the doorstep
all black branch
and cold
rigging on
a barren ship,

everything of me
was choir-song and
i had the most
beautiful
purple throat,

i was a soft
melody of love
on a strange
moody day.