Waking in the Rain
We’ve woken in this barrow
of leaves, blackness torn in the belly
of trees. All night, squirrels scurry
up and down these gray trunks, silver
shining in moonlight. Rain sheets
mingle with gurgling ground,
desperate eyes riding the hurricane
winds. Too close to shore, we are open
to the malice of wolves, we have
eaten too much of this golden bird.
See how she opens her cascading
wings, how that trembling operates
wires and strings and the fist
of ocean surge. When light fails,
who will open the blind cave’s mouth
and lay the writhing darkness to rest?
Who owns the sharp knife edge
of this latest birth? Messages ring
from rags of cloud, wires in the bending
wood. We have missed the last
parade and must follow the sweepers
now, making due with detritus and dust.