to be (before the flame)

I believe
is an elemental day

there is stillness
in the air
I can feel a breeze

a gentle breeze
touching me softly
as it passes

so gentle
how could it kiss
into fire

and yet

I look at the map
with its lines of arrows
and pointing there
to suggest the way
the wind blows

it changes
in the sketching
every hour

and so
every hour
the entrails
that predict our fate
must be read again

what altar
should I build
to the elemental

what place of worship
to the wind
and the rain

and the heartless
that rides above

I think
the moon
has been much easier
to praise

and I think
that today
I must follow
my heart

while the smoke
is less
and I am not confronted
by air
that hangs so near
and almost
in my face

it is a day
to walk

before the sun
is high

and I will go
to take my fill
of the township
while it stands
for me
it has always stood

I’ll take my fill
of post office corner

and a moment
with the pigeons there

the ford street fountain

and the dolphin

small pieces
of me
from my childhood
and the
long ago

I may touch
I think

to feel the texture


the old apple box tree

streets of elms
and the stand
of poplars

a trickling
by the laughing creek

I fished there
for small trout

and smoked
small cigarettes

quiet dreams

they were carefree

it seems
(I know)
that my thoughts are maudlin

and I suppose
that is truth

but what
I ask you
what else can I do

how else
might I invoke
the spirits
to mind me

if not to look and see

to hear and touch
and feel

and try to be
in my own
so small way

the things I love

the flame


9 thoughts on “to be (before the flame)

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