Afternoon Poem, August 1, 2018

 

As this rain ebbs grey birds appear again

As from nowhere, they roost in high branches

And flick their tails and shake their heads, quicker than sparks

.

The long, compound leaves of the walnuts

Bow under the dripping wet weight, as if praying

As if giving thanks for this long and gentle blessing

.

The branches of the young black oak

Lift so slightly, like fingers tapping

In the slow breeze that whispers “All things are made new”

.

Quiet:  a male cardinal makes a red dot

In the green canopy of vines

And the interlocking arms of the maples

.

Now look at that odd and unrecognized species, two of them

Lighting in the very top, arguing with each other

Telling of joy and mystery and wisdom long forgotten

 

 

copyright 2018

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