It is deep into the cold night

 silver light bathes the sky and river

God is keeping two of everything

and one of me

I am a dichotomy

a symphony of joy

and a factory of sorrows


A large vee of fowl

A plaintive squall

A trail of muffled sqwaks  southbound in infinite space

Migration’s muted survival song

hymn to winter and to
 falling stars


It is dark now

I am floating in a small raft of woven reeds

I can sense the deep bottom below

as I flit like a newspaper hat toward the dawn

  my fingers trace spiraling
   ripples  of daybreak

 I am drifting toward daylight

 and the salvation that it brings.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *