Near daybreak, my eyes close,
my mind steps down into our most
*In a dark time the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade …
I look out upon our desperate gardens.
A raven sits motionless on the branch
of a skeleton tree greedily eyeing the
tiny lark all feathers and bone.
In the state between sleep and wake
I traverse birth and mortality,
the faintest hint of earthy candles
sweeps the orb of my celestial dreaming
a sensation of pearls like tiny moons
falling from my open palms ,
and you, whose sigh is a strophe
of sonnets, waits far at the boundary,
not a spirit or rose tinged snow
but flesh and bone and sinew.
Alone I am sleeping less,
roused by the wing beats of Boreal Owls
circling ancient Cypress trees
their screech a fist of wind with knife edge
talons erupt through feathery curtains,
breech my seclusion,
dark traces that vibrate my hemispheres.
A lofty breeze lifts me over the valley
to a moonlit hillside of sweet lea.
There an ivory fox lies down beside me.
He is the scent of ripe wheat fields
his eyes are the color of the eastern sky.
*In A Dark Time by Roethke