The Light Insists Itself a Prayer
I pray, given time, for sweetness, given time
for the inexact branches of trees to bend
with the wind, for the hard light of fall
which runs them through like spears,
battling the opacity of silence, I pray
for these non-existent angels to push off
around the cliff face, name the current
just out of reach, name the avalanche of sound
just around the corner, in dreams that repeat,
in dreams that warn us off, I pray
for the translucent music of snowmelt,
for the faint smell of wood smoke,
how unbearably light and fine the spirit
that fits into the human landscape, I pray
for the wide tilting valley cast in afternoon shadow,
footprints facing the wrong direction, for my ear
that left and wandered alone, jade green,
fluctuating cold, lonely in this stream,
waiting for you to make your way home, I pray.
Cloudbank 3, fall 2010
