March 2017

 Abba, Abba — 
a baby tagging God
with quatrains

the light
her words on tiptoes
grasping it

last light
"fiat nox" rustles
in the hedge

almost being 
autumn
in the trees

where light was
a chiaroscuro
of presence

"autumn dusk"
not this one of words
but the other

windswept rain 
everyone I pass
another self

the child I was 
singsongs the silence
still to come

my footprint
soled, souled, sold
silting up