small songs I sing
to join
my voice to other voices
hidden in the grass

Thursday, February 23, 2012


Be prepared for darkness
to overtake you unawares,
from the heart of the white sky.
Think how it flows
down the dark mountain,
rubs out the rock face
with its broad thumbs,
erases the edges of leaves
and moistens the bark of the maple
with absolute color.
It closes the door of the clearing
without a sound.
Think how it seeps
into the pores of your skin
and strokes your clavicles
with the touch of fingers
caressing the strings of a harp.
And think how your body
must resonate
with unseen rustlings
and with the myriad questions
filling your bones like mist.

Pinesong: Awards 2009 (The North Carolina Poetry Society)

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