working in my backyard, out on the woodpile
after stopping to rest for awhile
visions begin to crowd my eyes
like a meteor shower in the autumn skies
and the soil beneath me begins to moan
like the sound of the wind through a hollow bone
and my mind fills with figures like some ancient rune for power.
a log slams on a rough hewn log
and a voice from somewhere scolds a barking dog.
i remember a bleak eyed prisoner in the stoney mountain
where life is suspended on hold...
you drink and fight and damage someone
and they throw you away for some years of boredom.
1 year done and 5 more to go
no job waiting so there's no parole
and over and over
they tell you that you are nothing.
so i tossed another log on my woodpile
and wondered at the lamp warm window's welcome smile.
i remember crackling embers
colored windows shining through the rain
distant landscapes, blue and liquid
tiny links in an endless chain.
the mist rises as the sun goes down
and the light that's left forms a kind of crown.
3 hawks wheel in a dazzling sky
a slow motion jet makes them look like a lie
and i'm left to conclude that there is no human answer near
for Spring is here.