the crows care little
for the mist

the snowmelt
or the palleted rain

they call
and carve the air

above the park
where do they go

after dark?
in their night silence

what do they think about?
elsewhere

something stirs
from its winter slumber

elsewhere
something uncoils

from its tight darkness
do not concern yourself

with the heavy details
of life

with the weight
of things

that sometimes swing
against you

find a place
with quiet light

and sing

there is a moment
when we speed

from beneath the heavy ground
sometimes

we are met
by a sky thick

with curtained clouds
sometimes

all is washed
in the gray

of rain
most days

it is the gentle sun
just waiting

and teeming
and promising

that this is how
your new life

will begin

they still
                 comb the beaches
                 for bones

they still
                 light sticks
                 of incense  

they still
                 remember

do you know the language?
can you read the words

of the waves bending into the rocks?
do you see the sentences

setting the clouds aflame?
how are you arranged

to receive such things?
are you too heavily armored?

are you a broken stringed kite
too wild with the wind?

whatever burden or lightness claims you
the color of wonder surrounds

do not be afraid to reach out
and touch it

the mechanics
of the invisible

circle slowly
upon themselves

petals pressing
ever tighter

losing light
but gaining strength  

we watch
and wonder

testing the heavy air
so cautious

with it all
things thorned

and what
of the unseen?

do they come
to rest

in dust covered boxes
up there

on the top shelf
waiting?

what is the beautiful question?
ask the tremble

of rain
ask the ocean

ask the leaves
that breathe freedom

we seek
to straighten the face

of buddha
to listen

to the rippling
of the bells

these are the irreparable embers
of the heart

and these have been the answers
all along

there is a light

there it is again

i reach for it

and hope it holds

it does

and i begin to walk my way out

of the darkness