An Early Homesick

Oh, young, 

We went 

Among the 

Cranes, each voice different

When we stopped talking 

And listened, and idling,

We'd hear their voices.

And dark the daylight sky,

With them

Those birds, 

Returning, thickening prairie's 

Endless horizon, and

Stopping that sky

With bird song,

Bird talk, ancient.

Gather, they said,

We come home. 

No Certainties

Outside the November light blues

The approaching dark, winter's

Short sapphire twilight punctuated by 

A streak of gold underlining 

The western sky, along the indistinct 

Horizon.

It is time to change the order now, 

More necessary as my

Time runs out; 

Time, contrarily the parabola's fixed point,

And as the universe reorders, I am moving, 

Wondering how the pictures in my

Head will come alive, where they'll 

Dovetail, full-circling into light

November wondering. 

Now

Sometimes 

I feel a little unstable, doing the stuff
That's right, 

I'm getting old, 

Rough, hoping for a
Rough beauty, so
I guess it's best to move
On into this
Kicking crying 

Screaming wondering

Where she was all those years
Place,
Find a visceral voice, 

Not sure,

Quite, how yet.

I do know that 

To realize and say,

Just say it,

Love it, and 

Do it is entirely up to

Each of us, all of us, knowing it's 

A long corner, long slow corner
To turn, and whether we make it

Can't be known.

Who cares, anyway, really, who dares?
Just feel this precious moment 

Leave a voice, a tear, a handprint on

This earth, her water and sky, 

We are gone in a heartbeat, 

Like water around rock.

Mni Wiconi