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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