is it not tomorrow then
when darkness comes and shadows deepen?
I felt a tug about my elbow and so I chased him down, the fool
I can’t stop smiling because I know
that ghosts pass through the arch here amongst the trees

a passing fable, her tongue calls for holy ones
and a back-talking raven (too large)
declares that these
dazzling creatures visit here
all four seasons the year

drenched in this
strange golden atmosphere
where the new light moves
I have seen one waiting
but it will not last