Monday, July 8, 2019

Evensong

butterflies flutter 
from the artist’s brush
in memoriam
a river of monarchs
once flowed across the sky

slow spirals
up the summer sky—
scavengers
cleansing my mind
of its dark residue

I follow a path
of spindrift oak leaves
to a clearing
where no cabin ever stood—
its hidden hearth my home 

the day
closes its circle
around me
silver voices 
re-enchant the dusk

to keep at bay
the wolfish dreams,
I sleep
with gentle sorrow
cradled in my arms


~red lights 15:2, June, 2019