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