lightning silhouettes
the midnight hills

men seed the ground
with nameless bones

fill the common graves
with rage

without question
the earth will take it all

without hesitation
the rain will wash it all

is there a more potent flower than sorrow?
is there a greater mystery than grief?
is there a singular and possible way to the speed the dawn?

the fox all burnt orange brown and soot footed
sat there in the middle of snow field

she had been watching me plod
and scratch my way across the same icy white surface

suddenly she stood and sprinted up the switch back of our common trail and made the tree line

stopping twice she marked me just before disappearing into a patch of thawed trees and dirt

eventually i made my way over to where she had vanished and checked her tracks in the snow

as if they might reveal some greater mystery

do not bother god with your petty little prayers your world weariness and concerns

instead step outside and wander the woods

ponder the melody of swelling rivers

the chemistry of change within the maples and birches

kneel as one season yields to the next

god applauds the woman who builds her own church

the man who seeks his own salvation

we balance the in between
of sun

and moon
winter

and spring
of the remains bequeathed

from one season
to the next

***** drifts
of melting snow

sidewalks thick
with rust brown pine needles

streets littered
with broken little branches

of trees
brooks babbling

with thaw water  
but right now

the sun has settled behind the mountain
right now

the crows ready themselves for sleep
right now

i fall deeper in love

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