Readying
by Stephen Mead
Here
The summer hair is still gleaming in the specks
Which hint of beach walks & hours of sun
Although now it is autumn & leaves
Hurry like feathers from large swans-----
Love,
bird of my otherness, these flutterings
Seem stained as hues of glass in a luminous
Gold & orange church.
Diaphanous rays catch them, showering
Miniature prisms. They are rainbows on
The
tongue while we dash & dance
Catching thanks, returning it
In this plum dusk
I
will purify my house just so, burn
Vanilla & sage, anoint wood, rub
The mirrors silver-clean for a holy time.
As star powder falls
Turn,
turn, turn,
Bare arms upraised sparse as the trees-----
From
distance, through windows of height,
Traffic & streetlights bounce & pour reflections.
It is a world of translucence & we,
Watercolors incandescent in our spiritual flesh
Of armor vulnerable,
We, such warriors these seasons of change
Arrange & repair
* *
*
Readying
© Stephen
Mead 2005 |