Thin Light
There is a crow in the far tree, its tail flushing in the wind; the sky is gray, trees barren, light thin on this shortest
December 26, 2014
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There is a crow in the far tree, its tail flushing in the wind; the sky is gray, trees barren, light thin on this shortest
Rain is falling on the window, pinging the chimney like bells in early light; the old world turning over with the weight of a river
Life encircles like a necklace of fire, unwilling that I should escape or hide in isolation, speaking through pain and the mysteries of sleep, each
Clear sky at dawn with a waxing moon, the stark branches of winter emptying, letting go of the green for descent into the holy dark.