But the Rain

The world twists slowly today
Sunrise like a father’s eyes
The water splashes granite splashes
Shadows left from a raven passing
The dark meanders where shoulders hunch close
The wildflowers he picked and chained and linked
And left to whither: a crown that could never fit
The lever between that world and this pivots here
This meadow where mistral birds sing
Let cubs play, let bodies lay, let deer
The ones who have faces stand close
Lovers of soul and masters of their beating hearts
The grasses underfoot flex and lift them
Above that fragrant burdened earth
All is seen and the unseen is but a pitch-scent ingnored
They have come to judge the light of the first star showing
As if the night could not carry on if that one snuffed
To take stock of wings and fill ballast-bags with till and silt
To witness the last few moments where flight is not possible
To linger for a time in a cold corner of this silent meadow wishing
Let cubs play, let bodies lay, let deer
The ices retreated and left bare a clearing
Where first a warmth and then a bearing
Took root but the rain, but the rain
Fell and swelled the eye that could have seen
And no matter the times written
The words blurred like the first morning wisp
On a lake shallowed and filling
She scratched the final lines in the book
Took her pain and buried it raw
In the new meadow there, by the stream
Where ash falls gently from a distant fire
Let cubs play, let bodies lay, let deer