128

[Guest guest]

In an afternoon of locust sound

a red-tailed hawk alights upon

the gray and greening walnut tree

out in a meadow golden slowly

turning in a blueness swirling

tree and hunters equally into the

vast approaching night, the

moon-lace light, the star-spun

night of some delight beyond

the ken of color, keener

than the insects' teeth

upon the leaves of walnut,

green things winding

mindlessly around themselves

for comfort, extending life

for sake of life, unconcerned

their flowers at the dawn of day

may blossom into meals for preying

Yamas sitting fat upon the branches

of a tree with roots in that same soil

that anchors it beneath a sky that knows

no light no dark no life no death no wonder.

 

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

b