Spring Song for Brother God
The kind to hide
(hear the gravel grumble and sliding
(crumble and divide)
as we travel the long road--
from lonely to...
all alone--
the kind to be:::
curious, beastly, preying
on those you wish
to save...
(We)
talk of
God in the wilderness
as if God is not wild,--
tail up///ears twitching///
!/!/!--
behind a bramble of song
until the appointed time
to pin us
with soft jaws
and pensive paws
until we play
like the dead:::
lay quiet, hands open to the sky
and splay (extremities), like prayer,
on the ground.
The howl
(the sigh of the
wild and welcome soul,
learning to grapple, and topple,
yearning to wrap tones around the soft
body of God)
shakes the rain
down from the forest fingers--
a gale of sound and burst of cold pellets)
humble and abiding.
