October 2016

the singing
is hers as the wind
moves the stars
on the move
a spring wind ruffling
dead sea scrolls
the Word with and was
God in the
the details
of cloven hooves the 
devil is in
from without
mute constellations
wheeling within
spring begins –
how can the earth contain
its surprise?
spring rains
death never looked
so good
hard times . . .
down to their last

light bent into shape

I too
practice being
signs of change
the stain of food
as it enters
and as it leaves
in shadows
shed by first light
my waking