Starting out into the cold:
wallet, keys,
phone, moon,
who cares what becomes
of the soundless dark?
Something like holiness avoids:
hides behind a maple tree,
hugs the stubblefield,
hangs like dying moss:
a falling
leaf.
Landscape opens into noise:
birdsong,
wind-play, leaves,
where all this light comes from,
no one is around to say.
Something like a prayer slips away:
a newly antlered deer deciding:
stay, go, stay, go,
go, go
& then it’s lost somewhere:
a hawk gone on the wing.
Somewhere a pond begins to ice:
the edges ripple less & less,
the heron stops visiting,
fattened cows are led away.
The sun, rising earlier & earlier
illuminates a landscape that grows:
farther &
farther & farther,
everything in a new light,
everything in its right place:
everything is full of change.
"where all this light comes from, / no one is around to say" is my favorite line--there are so many ways to read it.
ReplyDeleteIt's interesting that you included "something like a prayer" a line I like very much, because this poem is a prayer.